Cicely Fox Smith Poems

They were here on the side
Of the downs a few minutes ago . . .
...

I don't want to go back to Mejillones,
On the dusty Chile shore;
I don't want to go back to Mejillones,
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I don't want to go back to Mejillones,
On the dusty Chile shore;
I don't want to go back to Mejillones,
...

'Ships . . . they go,' said Murphy, 'like a spent pay-roll . . .
They're sunk in the deep water or they're wrecked in the shoal;
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We in our citied ease,
Far from the noise of war,
Often we think on you,
Sentries by gates afar,
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Ere the word of Kings went over on the pathway of the rover,
To the lands of hope and promise at the breaking of the day
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These were the ships that kept on going
When the seas were thick with the War’s black sowing -
Great ocean liners in white paint and gold,
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All honour be to merchantmen,
And ships of all degree,
In warlike dangers manifold
Who sail and keep the sea, -
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Who will drink a health with me?
Drink together, messmates all!
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“If I was a bloke as could paint,”
Bill said, “which I ain’t,
Lord! The pictures I’d do
Of ships runnin’ free
...