Heave to! Tide waits none,
Nor we tarry, dawn encroaches!
Sweeps to sea, to stink and rot and
Creaking flight, to Open sky, to
Swells, to life! But!
Tug! vain, silly strings - tug
Beating, quavering polestar
Right about - and, beam of smiling
Turn wanderlust-rid seafarer back
To port of call, I shall not
Wander more, I shall not go
Gently into that cold night, I
Shall not leave thee, Exeter!
My gift, again my song, I bring,
I carry with me home.