Through the Porthole

When I went to bed at night,
Then my porthole was a frame:
If I watched a little while,
I would find that pictures came.

Once I saw the mast-head light
Of a far-off passing ship:
On the rolling, splashing sea
I could see it rise and dip.

In the great dark sky above
Stars were scattered everywhere,
Ships, I thought, were just like stars
As I lay and watched them there.

For a world is every star
In a heaven of its own:
Every ship a little world
Out upon the sea alone.
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