There was a bright-eyed boy
That no-one knows,
Who stowed away in steerage once,
I hid him in my clothes,
He always travelled second-class
And braved each raging sea,
We travelled while the tide was high;
He came ashore with me.

And every train I ever caught
I saw him there,
Back in some third-class carriage
Or just open to the air,
I started leaving him behind
Or caught another train,
Got off at stations where, I knew,
I’d lose him in the rain.

But one day then, I noticed
He was lost to me,
I hadn’t counted on his hurt,
Or that he might abandon me;
So now it’s left to me to brood awhile,
While he stares back from mirrors now,
And very rarely smiles.

David Lewis Paget