And this is the dreamed of wonder! 
This - at last - is the sea! 
Billows of liquid thunder- 
Vocal immensity! 
But where is the thrill of glory 
Born of a great surprise? 
This is the old, old story; 
These are the ancient skies. 

Child of the prairie expanses, 
Often the soul of me 
Hungered for long sea glances; 
And here - at last - is the sea. 
Yon goes a sea gull flying; 
There is a sinking mast; 
This is the ocean crying! 
This is the rune of the Vast! 

But out in my mother country, 
Ever since I was born, 
This is the song my brother Winds 
Sang in the fields of corn. 
And there, in purple midnights 
Sullen and still with heat, 
This is the selfsame drone that ran 
Over the heading wheat. 

Ere Time, the mystical Motion, 
Mothered and cradled thee, 
This was the song, O Ocean, 
That saddened the soul of me. 
And I long to be as the steamer 
That dwindles, dissolves in the Blue; 
For mine is the soul of the dreamer- 
And nothing to me is new.