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?