Sea Longing

You who are inland born know not the pain Of one who longs for gray dunes and the seas And sound of ebbing tide and windy rain And sea-mews crying down immensities. You who are inland born, know not the urge Of rapt tides beating passionate and wild; Nor have you thrilled with wonder at the surge Of drifting water, wayward as a child. Impetuous I seek the eager sea, Imperious for joy and wind-blown spray; You, who are city-beaten every day, What do you know of mirth and ecstasy? No thirsty wind has journeyed from the South⁠— And laid a cool, wet finger on your mouth!