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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!