Classic Poem

Oh, the dim sea, the grim sea,
Where the dark fog lies, and the east wind cries,
And the wheeling sea-gulls play;
Oh, the weary sea, and the dreary sea,
That carries my ship away!

Oh, the still sea, the chill sea!
Dull surge on surge to the utmost verge
By the gray skies overspanned.
Oh, the heaving sea, the cleaving sea,
That separates land from land!

Oh, the blue sea, the true sea,
With its long, long crests like the sea-gulls' breasts
And the wind-tracks veined with foam!
Oh, the long sea, and the strong sea
That hurries my good ship home!