Today, there was no threat of weather in the captain’s eye,
So, the sergeant ferry forded the harbour with shoulders back,
Sparkling through its secret easements of way,
Past a boy who was coiled like a languid worm
At the end of a jetty,
Dawdling his rod in the waters,
Playing patience with the sea;
And past the turtle-back dinghies
Stashed in their secret covies,
Towards the wharf at Woolwich.
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