The Collected Poems of Rupert Brooke

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.