Lowry, Malcolm: Iron thoughts sail out at evening

Iron thoughts sail out at the evening on iron ships;

They move hushed as far lights while twelve footers

Dive at anchor as the ferry sputters

And spins like a round top, in the tide rips,

Its rooster voice half muted by choked pipes

Plumed with steam. The ship passes. The cutters

Fall away. Bells strike. The ferry utters

A last white phrase; and human lips,

A last black one, heavy with welcome

To loss. Thoughts leave the pitiless city,

Yet ships themselves are iron and have no pity;

While men have hearts and sides that strain and rust.

Iron thoughts sail from the iron cities in the dust,

Yet soft as doves the thoughts that fly back home.