My calm of shoreward storm,
And winking of the hour,
My refuge and my power,
In midst of raving form.

Squaring off the sides,
With measure and restraint,
A little here a little there,
Leaves a dating quaint.

Oh off beyond the countryside,
To concrete fields and glass meadows,
Then deeper into busy humanity,
Wearing different clothes and colours,
Wearing different eyes and noses,

Now hustle on into these sharpened trains,
In costume unfamiliar yet so nearly just the same,
Now bustle on into discomforting seats,
Share some words with perfect strangers,
Find they're rather neat in all their rich humanity,

Oh off beside the countryside,
For hours under clear blue skies,
For hours by oil painterly clouds,
That flow above lush life racing,
That frame the pretty flowers by the tracks,

Oh off beyond the countryside,
To battered train to olden shore,
Encamped each side by her majesty blue,
Here I glimpsed what I didn't know,
A place one dear to me has spent her days.

Four pees podding,
Squashed up in wrapping duvet,
Wittering joyous nothings,
Echoing one another between bursts of lucid lines.