  I’VE languished under many moons And loved them all. Ah me! But now my heart is filled too full Of hunger for the sea. When thinking of the white gulls That ride the creamy foam, I almost hear the brave winds O’er singing seas at home. And when I think of white mists That rise from shore to shore, In utter weariness I weep But cannot see them more. And some day when I leave my dreams These tides in which I’ve striven, I’ll lock their memories in my breast And carry them to heaven. |
|
