Not much by way of luggage or farewell <br />Here at Southampton harbour. Be it so. <br />Whatever might be said is said by now <br />As one by one along a warehouse wall <br />Pathetic ribbons break apart and fall <br /> <br />Music. A cheerful bell, an organ blast <br />To clear the deck and blow away the past. <br />A time for celebration? Time will tell. <br />The great ship moves to meet the Atlantic swell. <br /> <br />Vast emptiness. I pitch the locust years <br />Like rubbish to the gulls for they were full <br />Of broken promises. Some good may come <br />From parting, inasmuch as common cares <br />Make all directions equal and the whole <br />Dark-spinning, crowded globe to be my home. <br />Beyond the coast in oriental skies <br />venus is rising. Mirrored in the foam, <br />Her path is radiant. <br />Circles.<br /><br />Charles Fisher<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/leaving-england-1953/
