Blue Peter

Cirey seas and the slow turn of a great screw long silent,
Crowded decks and the lusty call of commonplaces,
And a white But ter of farewell from a speck that is a friend;
A churning, creaming tumult in the quiet harbour,
Then the ship glides like a swan, her engines ceasing,
And she is gone.
Gone to where the chill seas fawn at the feet of the winds
And glamorous lights shine from a fair port by the level water.

C.Q.P.