I gazed afar from the rocky hill,
As if I never could drink my fill
Of the prospect fair, the ocean wide,
The blue, bright ocean on every side.

For, with the prospect, grew my mind;
And seemed, in the vast expanse, to find
A space for its flight, without shore, or bound,
Save the sky above, and the sea around.

But soon o'er my spirit a feeling stole,
A sad, lonely feeling I could not control;
Which the sight of the ocean doth ever bring,
As if, like the soul, 'twere a lonely thing.

The plaintive wave, as it broke on the shore,
Seemed sighing for rest forevermore;
And glad at length the land to reach,
And tell its tale to the silent beach.

So seemed it then to my wandering thought,
That in the vast prospect a home had sought;
The ship o'er the waters a port may find,
But never the longing and restless mind.

As night o'er the ocean its shadow threw,
And homeward the weary sea-bird flew;
I turned from the dark and rocky height,
With grateful heart, to my hearth-stone bright.