Here in the fairway <br />Fetching--foul of keel, <br />Long-stray but fortunate-- <br />Out of the fogs, the vast <br />Atlantic solitudes. <br />Shall, by the hawser-pin <br />Waiting the signal <br />Leave--go--anchor! <br />Scent the familiar, <br />The unforgettable <br />Fragrance of home; <br />So in a long breath <br />Bless us unknowing: <br />Bless them, the violets, <br />Bless me, the gardener, <br />Bless thee, the giver.<br /><br />Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-a-friend-38/
