Cicely Fox Smith
Pals - Poem by Cicely Fox Smith
'What's become o' the ship you went to sea with
A month ago or more?
And what's become o' the pal you used to be with
When you was last ashore?'
'She's made a far port an' a quiet mooring,
And a strange landfall . . .
She's where she won't heed the sea's roaring,
If she hears it there at all.
'There's no bell to strike nor watch to keep there,
An' no wind to blow . . .
It's a spell o' rest he's found an' a deep sleep there,
An' a long watch below . . .
'An' I'll find many another ship to sign in,
For they clear with every tide,
An' I'll find plenty ports with pals o' mine in,
For the world's good an' wide . . .
An' I'll maybe find a ship as good as she was,
But never another friend,
Never another pal as good as he was,
Not till the world's end . . .'
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