What are the heaths and hills to me?
I'm a-longing for the sea!
What are the flowers that dapple the dell,
And the ripple of swallow-wings over the dusk;
What are the church and the folk who tell
Their hearts to God?— my heart is a husk!
( I'm a-longing for the sea! )
Aye! for there is no peace to me —
But on the peaceless sea!
Never a child was glad at my knee,
And the soul of a woman has never been mine.
What can a woman's kisses be?—
I fear to think how her arms would twine.
( I'm a-longing for the sea! )
So, not a home and ease for me —
But still the homeless sea!
Where I may swing my sorrow to sleep
In a hammock hung o'er the voice of the waves,
Where I may wake when the tempests heap
And hurl their hate — and a brave ship saves.
( I'm a-longing for the sea! )
Then when I die, a grave for me —
But in the graveless sea!
Where is no stone for an eye to spell
Thro’ the lichen a name, a date and a verse.
Let me be laid in the deeps that swell
And sigh and wander — an ocean hearse!
( I'm a-longing for the sea! )