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.