Little thou hast, old friend, that’s new;
    Storms and wrecks are old things to thee;
Sick am I of these changes, too;
Little to care for, little to rue,—
    I on the shore, and thou on the sea.

All of thy wanderings, far and near,
    Bring thee at last to shore and me;
All of my journeyings end them here:
This our tether must be our cheer,—
    I on the shore, and thou on the sea.

Lazily rocking on ocean’s breast,
    Something in common, old friend, have we:
Thou on the shingle seek’st thy nest,
I to the waters look for rest,—
    I on the shore, and thou on the sea.