And sure we see, when the foam is free,
And the hissing waves are hurtling over the rail,
Your form afloat on the film of the sea,
And we fare drunk on a dream of your forehead pale.
We yearn to the goal of your luring lips,
Forgetting the clasp and the human kiss of earth,—
And we die in the love of you, Love o’ Ships,
Who have sought you from our birth (mad souls!)
Who have loved you from our birth.