I'd tramped the whole day long on the weary roads ashore,
I was tired as a dog, and my heart was sick and sore,
By strange towns, and long roads, I'd plodded wearily
With ne'er a soul to call my friend, and far from the sea.

I climbed a hilly road in the driving, drenching rain;
There was mist like a fleece lying thick upon the plain,
And a wet west wind came blowing, came blowing fresh and free,
With a damp feel on my forehead and a smell of the sea.

O how should I mistake it, or how name it wrong,
What the heart of me was sick for all the weary road along?
The white fog was before me as thick as it could be,
But I knew my way was coastward, and my face to the sea.

O the chill breath a-blowing, and the salt on my lips,
From the seaport, and the roadstead, and the straining sails of ships!
O the sharp scent of the golden weed about the grey stone quay,
And the heart of me a-leaping at a smell of the sea!