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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet V
Work rating: Low

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