On the bare cliffs in lonely revery
I wait, and hear far off the smothered shocks
Of billows plunging on the stubborn rocks
That pillar the ancient gateway to the sea;
And there comes o'er me, swift, resistless, free,
Again that old fierce soul of storm and flood,
With fire and joy exultant in the blood,
Erewhile through stormy years my destiny!
That strong voice of the sea, prophetic, great,
How shall the weak of soul resist its call,
Having once loved it? 'Tis the voice of fate,
Swifter than tongue of siren to enthrall,
Such sway hath mighty nature o'er us still,
Such power, despise, deny her, as we will!