People that build their houses inland,
       People that buy a plot of ground
     Shaped like a house, and build a house there,
       Far from the sea-board, far from the sound

     Of water sucking the hollow ledges,
       Tons of water striking the shore,—
     What do they long for, as I long for
       One salt smell of the sea once more?

     People the waves have not awakened,
       Spanking the boats at the harbor's head,
     What do they long for, as I long for,—
       Starting up in my inland bed,

     Beating the narrow walls, and finding
       Neither a window nor a door,
     Screaming to God for death by drowning,—
       One salt taste of the sea once more?


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