The physical world itself is a fair thing <br />For who has eyes to see or ears to hear. <br />To--day I fled on my new freedom's wind, <br />With the first swallows of the parting year, <br />Southwards from England. At the Folkestone pier <br />I left the burden of my sins behind, <br />Noting how gay the noon was, and how clear <br />The tide's fresh laughter rising to no wind. <br />A hundred souls of men there with my own <br />Smiled in that sunshine. 'Tis a little measure <br />Makes glad the heart at sea, and not alone <br />Do wise men kindle to its pulse of pleasure <br />Here all alike, peers, pedlars, squires, and dames <br />Forswore their griefs fog--born of Father Thames.<br /><br />Wilfrid Scawen Blunt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-new-pilgrimage-sonnet-v/
