I'd tramped the whole day long on the weary roads ashore,
I was tired as a dog, and my heart was sick and sore,
By strange towns, and long roads, I'd plodded wearily
With ne'er a soul to call my friend, and far from the sea.
I climbed a hilly road in the driving, drenching rain;
There was mist like a fleece lying thick upon the plain,
And a wet west wind came blowing, came blowing fresh and free,
With a damp feel on my forehead and a smell of the sea.
O how should I mistake it, or how name it wrong,