On Setting Out

The boat is ready in which I must embark. Farewell then mother and father. Home, farewell. There will be letters brought by a talking stork To say that my adventures are going well.

Farewell then cat and dog and the kitchen chair. I see you frozen into a photograph At which, while the Queen of Fairyland smooths my hair, I may with a contemptuous fondness laugh.

For you are so small you might as well be dolls, And I am so fiercely burning like a star That even your petulant ocean meekly lulls, And will like a taxi hurry me anywhere.

Farewell then old indigenous comfy laps And nurse and nurture. I am bound away To walk the diamond mountain's icy steps And shake the golden pillars of the day.

Then, when I hold the world like a giant key, And have no further sky nor sea to burn, To gratify your natural pride in me, Briefly, unwillingly, I may return.