Oh, the white Sea-gull, the wild Sea-gull,
   A joyful bird is he,
As he lies like a cradled thing at rest
   In the arms of a sunny sea !
The little waves rock to and fro,
   And the white Gull lies asleep,
As the fisher's bark, with breeze and tide,
   Goes merrily over the deep.
The ship, with her fair sails set, goes by,
   And her people stand to note
How the Sea-gull sits on the rocking waves,
   As if in an anchored boat.

The sea is fresh, the sea is fair,
   And the sky calm overhead,
And the Sea-gull lies on the deep, deep sea,
   Like a king in his royal bed !
Oh, the white Sea-gull, the bold Sea-gull,
    A joyful bird is he,
Throned like a king, in calm repose
   On the breast of the heaving sea !

The waves leap up, the wild wind blows,
     And the Gulls together crowd,
And wheel about, and madly scream
    To the deep sea roaring loud.
And let the sea roar ever so loud,
    And the wind pipe ever so high,
With a wilder joy the bold Sea-gull
    Sends forth a wilder cry.

For the Sea-gull, he is a daring bird,
  And he loves with the storm to sail;
To ride in the strength of the billowy sea,
  And to breast the driving gale !
The little boat, she is tossed about,
  Like a sea-****, to an fro;
The tall ship reels like a drunken man,
  As the gusty tempests blow.

But the Sea-gull laughs at the fear of man,
  And sails in a wild delight
On the torn-up breast of the night-black sea,
  Like a foam cloud, calm and white.
The waves may rage and the winds may roar,
  But he fears not wreck nor need;
For he rides the sea, in its stormy strength,
  As a strong man rides his steed.

Oh, the white Sea-gull, the bold Sea-gull !
  He makes on the shore his nest,
And he tries what the inland fields may be;
  But he loveth the sea the best !
And away from land a thousand leagues,
  He goes 'mid surging foam;
What matter to him is land or shore,
  For the sea is his truest home !

*Mary Howitt