Oh how I love the laughing sea, Sun lances splintering; Or with a virile harmony In salty caves to sing; Or mumbling pebbles on the shore, Or roused to monster might: By day I love the sea, but more I love it in the night. High over ocean hangs my home And when the moon is clear I stare and stare till fairy foam Is music in my ear; Till glamour dances to a tune No mortal man could make; And there bewitched beneath the moon To beauty I awake. Then though I seek my bed again And close the shutters tight, Still, still I hear that wild refrain And see that mystic light . . . Oh reckon me a crazy loon, But blesséd I will be If my last seeing be the moon, My last sound--the Sea. Robert Service