I must go down to the sea again,
To the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship
And a star to steer her by;
And the wheel's kick,
And the wind's song,
And the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face,
And a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the sea again,
For the call of the running tide
Is a wild call, and a clear call,
That may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day
With the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume,
And the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the sea again,
To the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way,
And the whale's way,
Where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn
From a laughing fellow rover,
And a quiet sleep and a sweet dream,
When the long trick's over.
 

John Masefield