By the Chalk-White Cliffs

By the chalk-white cliffs of Dover Where the English country ends There we watch the ferries going over Some in some out, the usual wend In our youthful common blithe There we sat on cliff-grass wasting Wasting time and never hasting On the meadows reaped by scythe So meet us here one day my friend When your meadows also end With a scythe to reap your spoils So you can board the ferry outbound to the peaceful, foreign soils By the glossy calming ocean That reflects your face, your past Stuck in pondering past emotion As the waves come in to cast A new reflection of the sea Where your long-lost memories squander To a worldly town a yonder In a book of your debris So meet us here one day my friend When your meadows also end With a scythe to reap your spoils So you can board the ferry outbound to the peaceful, foreign soils