Would I were on the sea-lands,
— Where winds know how to sting;
And in the rocks at midnight
— The lost long murmurs sing.

Would I were with my first love
— To hear the rush and roar
Of spume below the doorstep
— And winds upon the door.

My first love was a fair girl
— With ways forever new;
And hair a sunlight yellow,
— And eyes a morning blue.

The roses, have they tarried
— Or are they dun and frayed?
If we had stayed together,
— Would love, indeed, have stayed?

Ah, years are filled with learning,
— And days are leaves of change!
And I have met so many
— I knew . . . and found them strange.

But on the sea-lands tumbled
— By winds that sting and blind,
The nights we watched, so silent,
— Come back, come back to mind . . .

I mind about my first love,
— And hear the rush and roar
Of spume below the doorstep
— And winds upon the door.