As I lean from my window and hark
To the voice that keeps shouting for me
In vain—and yet, not in vain,
For I shall go back to the sea.
I long for the leap of the spray—
I lust for the swirl of the brine—
Though lingering day after day
(Land fetters still cumbering me)
Some morn I shall claim what is mine—
I will rise—I will go to the sea.