Down on the shore, on the sunny shore!

Where the salt cheers the land;

Where the tide moves bright under boundless light,

And the surge on the glittering strand;

Where the children wade in the shallow pools,

Or run from the froth in play;

Where the swift little boats with milk-white wings

Are crossing the sapphire bay,

And the ship in full sail, with a fortunate gale,

Hold proudly on her way;

Where the nets are spread on the grass to dry,

And asleep, hard by, the fishermen lie,

Under the tent of the warm blue sky,

With the hushing wave on its golden floor

To sing their lullaby.

 

Down on the shore, on the stormy shore!

Beset by growing sea,

Whose mad waves leap on the rocky steep

Like wolves up a traveler’s tree;

Where the foam flies wide, and an angry blast

Blows the curlew off, with a screech;

Where the brown sea-wreck, torn up by the roots.

Is flung out of fishes’ reach;

And the tall ship rolls on the hidden shoals,

And scatters her planks on the beach;

Where slate and straw through the village spin,

And a cottage fronts the fiercest din

With a sailor’s wife sitting sad within,

Hearkening the wind and the water’s roar,

Till at last her tears begin.

 

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