Last night when I left her my true love was weeping <br />For sorrow at parting, but parting must be: <br />What use for her tears, and what use to be keeping <br />A lad by the fireside, that follows the sea? <br />For the cold day’s a-breaking, the town hardly waking, <br />The moon like a ghost in the pale morning sky, <br />And the Blue Peter’s blowing, to tell ye we’re going, <br />And the gulls in the river all calling good-bye! <br /> <br />The last hawser’s cast and the tug-whistle’s blowing, <br />The shore growing dim in the mist and the rain: <br />And wide, very wide, is the world where we’re going <br />And long, very long, till ye see us again! <br /> <br />Farewell and adieu to ye - still we’ll be true to ye, <br />Still we’ll remember wherever we be, - <br />Hope we’ll be meeting ye, hope you will be greeting <br />Someday your sailor home from the sea! <br /> <br />All in the cold morning, all in the grey weather, <br />On the sheds and the shipping the rain slating down, <br />All hands to the capstan bars, roaring together <br />A stave for farewell to the folk of the town: <br />Hong Kong and Vancouver, Callao and Suva, <br />The Cape and Kowloon, it’s a very far cry <br />From the slow river creeping by houses all sleeping, <br />And the gulls in the wake of us, calling good-bye!<br /><br />Cicely Fox Smith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-blue-peter/
