The Call of the Sea

The Sea is loth to lose a friend;

Men of one voyage, when they spend

Six months with him, hear his vexed cry

Haunting their houses till they die.

And for the sake of him they let

The winds blow them, and raindrops wet

Their foreheads with fresh water sprays—

Thinking of his wild, salty days.

And well they love to saunter near

A river, and its motion hear;

And see ships lying in calm beds,

That danced upon seas’ living heads;

And in their dreams they hear again

Men’s voices in a hurricane—

Like ghosts complaining that their graves

Are moved by sacrilegious waves.