It throbs 'neath mine ear as a fluttering bird;
While swift to my lips comes thy low song, repeating
The lilt of the waves, in a measure half-heard!
"For oh! to be out on the Ocean, the Ocean,—
And oh! to be far from the world, Love, with thee!"
It rises and falls with the waves' rhythmic motion,
Is filled with night's balm as with starbeams the sea!
"With naught 'twixt the sky and the billows"—now singing
The words keep repeating the tender refrain—
"But the boat,"—comes once more in cadence clear ringing,—