Sentimental Journey

Because I could not sleep, I went
Down to the guest-house sitting-room,
And while the host was sleeping, I
Peered through the window at the gloom,

At silent road and moonlit trees
And sheltered garden in the square,
Then saw in my mind's eye, a mile
And half a century from there,

A terraced house with peeling plaster
Lit by the moon and street-lamps' glow
And at the window two young children
(Marilyn,where are you now?)

Whence, heedless of the stinking gasworks,
Gazed we down upon the quay,
Where fishing-boats bobbed in the harbour,
Cast off and sailed the surging sea.