Passenger from Childhood

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