I never climb a high hill
Or gaze across the lea,
But, Oh, beyond the two of them,
Beyond the height and blue of them,
I'm looking for the sea.
A blue sea — a crooning sea —
A grey sea lashed with foam —
But, Oh, to take the drift of it,
To know the surge and lift of it,
And‘ tis I am longing for it as the homeless long for home.
I never dream at night-time
Or close my eyes by day,
But there I have the might of it,
The wind-whipped, sun-drenched sight of it,
That calls my soul away.
Oh, deep dreams and happy dreams,
Its dreaming still I'd be,
For still the land I'm waking in,
‘ Tis that my heart is breaking in,
And‘ tis far where I'd be sleeping with the blue waves over me.