I must go down to the sea again For the call of the running tide It's a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied.

The distant soul can shake the distant friend's soul and make the longing felt, over untold miles.

Commonplace people dislike tragedy because they dare not suffer and cannot exult.

My road leads me seawards To the white dipping sails.

Oh some are fond of Spanish wine, and some are fond of French.

But he has gone, A nation's memory and veneration, Among the radiant, ever venturing on, Somewhere, with morning, as such spirits will.

Success is the brand on the brow of the man who aimed too low.