Turn o’ the Tide

The tide flows in to the harbour⁠—
The bold tide, the gold tide, the flood o’ the sunlit sea⁠—
And the little ships riding at anchor,
Are swinging and slanting their prows to the ocean, panting
To lift their wings to the wide wild air,
And venture a voyage they know not where⁠—
To fly away and be free!

The tide runs out of the harbour⁠—
The low tide, the slow tide, the ebb o’ the moonlit bay⁠—
And the little ships rocking at anchor,
Are rounding and turning their bows to the landward, yearning
To breathe the breath of the sun-warmed strand,
To rest in the lee of the high hill land⁠—
To hold their haven and stay!

My heart goes round with the vessels⁠—
My wild heart, my child heart, in love with the sea and the land⁠—
And the turn o’ the tide passes through it,
In rising and falling with mystical currents, calling
At morn, to range where the far waves foam,
At night, to a harbour in love’s true home,
With the hearts that understand!