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A life on the sea—

to watch the tide run;

like the gulls, I am free,

and owe service to none.

To stand at the helm,

my face sprayed with brine!

The wide oceans, my realm;

the bright stars, my shrine.

I care little for land

and the dreary shore-life.

But, with wheel in my hand,

I have no cause for strife.

For a breath of salt air

and a shanty to sing

have a beauty more rare

than the treasure of kings.