England and Yesterday — London - XII. In the Docks

XII. IN THE DOCKS.

Where the bales thunder till the day is done, And the wild sounds with wilder odours cope;

Where over crouching sail and coiling rope, Lascar and Moor along the gangway run;

Where stifled Thames spreads in the pallid sun, A hive of anarchy from slope to slope;

Flag of my birth, my liberty, my hope, I see thee at the masthead, joyous one!

O thou good guest!

So oft as, young and warm, To the home-wind thy hoisted colours bound, Away, away from this too thoughtful ground, Sodden with human trespass and despair, Thee only, from the desert, from the storm, A sick mind follows into Eden air.

OXFORD:

SONNETS WRITTEN THERE IN 1890 AND 1895.

_TO LIONEL JOHNSON.

_ I.