  O, fresh from off the ocean The salt wind riots through The fragrant fern and bay-leaves And dripping honey-dew. The morning’s on the moorland, And flashing, far away, I glimpse the foam-white seagulls And feathers of the spray. O hasten! let us hasten! The tide sings up the sand The song my heart has harkened Across long leagues of land. So far, far have I journeyed, Such weary ways, O sea! Breathe, breathe me breath of life now, And steep the soul of me!
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