Holds all the strength of the untiring sea.
The land grows little, and we crave the blue
No earthly shade e’er shutteth from the sun,
The barren sands whereon the light waves run
But rest not, bidding evermore adieu,
And evermore returning, bringing gifts
They give and take, and still give o’er again.
We crave the vastness of the salty plain!
As sea-bird on unbreaking billow drifts
Our hearts with that soft plashing throb in time—