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A Channel Passage

 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.

Poem by Rupert Brooke
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