Thalatta! Thalatta!

In my ear is the moan of the pines—in my heart is the song of the sea, And I feel his salt breath on my face as he showers his kisses on me, And I hear the wild scream of the gulls, as they answer the call of the tide, And I watch the fair sails as they glisten like gems on the breast of a bride.

From the rock where I stand to the sun is a pathway of sapphire and gold, Like a waif of those Patmian visions that wrapt the lone seer of old, And it seems to my soul like an omen that calls me far over the sea— But I think of a little white cottage and one that is dearest to me.

Westward ho! Far away to the East is a cottage that looks to the shore— Though each drop in the sea were a tear, as it was, I can see it no more; For the heart of its pride with the flowers of the “Vale of the Shadow” reclines, And—hushed is the song of the sea and hoarse is the moan of the pines.