Long had the far sea lured me
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And the eyes of the waste,
But I said: "I must stay in the town
Earning our bread together—
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As honey, wild honey, dropping the rocks a-down,
And kisses for every weather."
But now that no more, each morning,
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We look in each other's eyes,
Poor as our attic sparrows,
And she in her simple adorning
The Queen of the Islands of Spice;
What more is the town to me
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That I like a ghost should linger?
So again comes the song of the sea,
That luring and lordliest singer,
And again shine the eyes of the waste.
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And they say: "You shall find her no more,
For all the long nights you have paced,
Street after street, through the town,
Vainly you knock at each door,
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Vainly pray for the sound of her feet,
For the tender talk of her gown—
For she dwells no more in the town."
So I think I shall go far away,
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To the sky-line's loneliest ends,
Where the ships leave the men every day
That have no more need of friends,
Nothing more to do or to say;
Where the sky and the sea are alone
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For ever, year after year,
And the near is one with the far,
And the far with the near.
And perhaps in some sea-sung place,
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Where the sands are as white as her breast,
I shall see, or dream that I see,
Once more my beautiful face;
And think it is I and she
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In the town once more together,
With kisses for every weather;
Our bread to earn for the day,
And earning for night our rest.
And so I am going away
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Where the sands are as white as her breast.