A Channel Passage

Rupert Brooke

The damned ship lurched and slithered.  Quiet and quick
 My cold gorge rose; the long sea rolled; I knew
I must think hard of something, or be sick;
 And could think hard of only one thing -- YOU!
You, you alone could hold my fancy ever!
 And with you memories come, sharp pain, and dole.
Now there's a choice -- heartache or tortured liver!
 A sea-sick body, or a you-sick soul!

Do I forget you?  Retchings twist and tie me,
 Old meat, good meals, brown gobbets, up I throw.
Do I remember?  Acrid return and slimy,
 The sobs and slobber of a last years woe.
And still the sick ship rolls.  'Tis hard, I tell ye,
To choose 'twixt love and nausea, heart and belly.

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