A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet V

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.