Cicely Fox Smith

(1 February 1882 – 8 April 1954 / Lymm, Cheshire)

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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Poem Submitted: Monday, August 30, 2010

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