From the Sea
From one small window I looked out and saw
A square of well-kept lawn, close-cut and neat,
Where sunlit branches swaying in the breeze
Made patterned shades across the narrow street.
Along this narrow street where shade trees grow
I saw four tired grey survivors go.
Their very walk showed they were men of ships,
And on each face there was a look of awe,
As if what they had suffered had not passed
And time alone would dim the things they saw.
The square is empty now, branches still sway,
Was it a dream I dreamed but yesterday?
