Outside

I want to be lighting my pipe on deck, With my baggage safe below— I want to be free of the crowded quay, While the steamer’s swinging slow. I want to be free of treachery, And of sordid joys and griefs— To be out of sight of the faces white, And the waving of handkerchiefs. I want to be making my ship-board friends, I want to be free of the past— I want to be laughing with kindred souls, While the Heads are opening fast. I want to be sailing far to-day, On the tracks where the rovers go, To feel the heave of the deck, and draw The breath that the rovers know.