I COME across the sea,
(O ship, ride fast)!
True heart, I sail to thee;
Sail home at last.
Yet ships there are that never reach their haven,
Though glad they sail;
And hoarse laments of curlew and sea-raven
Haunt every gale.

My ship lies at the pier
(The tide 's at turn);
No place she hath for fear
From prow to stern.
O Love, the soul shall never miss its haven,
Though it sail far,
Nor hoarse laments of curlew and sea-raven
May reach yon star.