And the grinding of her derricks as the sacks went overside;
I forgot the murk of London and the dull November sky—
I was far, ay, far from England, in a day that's long gone by.
I forgot the thousand changes years have brought in ships and men,
And the knots on Time's old log-line that have reeled away since then,
And I saw a fast full-rigger with her swelling canvas spread,
And the steady trade-wind droning in her royals overhead,
Fleecy trade-clouds on the sky-line—high above the Tropic blue—
And the curved arch of her foresail and the ocean gleaming through;
I recalled the Cape Stiff weather, when your soul-case seemed to freeze,