Calling, calling, loud and free.
In a voice which shakes with welcome
He is calling to the sea.
From the mountain's snow-clad bosom
Brooklets winding seaward sing;
And the silver-braided wildwoods
Tingle with the joy of spring.
Breezes playing with the sea-nymphs
Kiss the wooded land with glee,
And the golden shore is warbling