All day I hear along the sandy shore
The melancholy music of the Sea;
The green-robed choir of Ocean sing to me,
Chanting the legends of their ancient lore.
I hear the tales of mariners of yore,
Of ships gone down, of tempests blowing free;
I hear the mast, remembering the tree,
Grieve for the grove and all its leaves once more.

But when night comes and in the deep blue sky
Gather the stars above the fields of foam,
The music changes, and in fancy I
Again the old familiar forests roam
And hear the mast's companions as they cry:
Blow, Wind, and bring our captive brother home!