The poem
I know 'tis but a loom of land, Yet is it land, and so I will rejoice, I know I cannot hear His voice Upon the shore, nor see Him stand; Yet is it land, ho! land.
The land! the land! the lovely land! 'Far off,' dost say? Far off-ah, blessèd home! Farewell! farewell! thou salt sea-foam! Ah, keel upon the silver sand- Land, ho! land.
You cannot see the land, my land, You cannot see, and yet the land is there- My land, my land, through murky air- I did not say 'twas close at hand- But-land, ho! land.
Dost hear the bells of my sweet land, Dost hear the kine, dost hear the merry birds? No voice, 'tis true, no spoken words, No tongue that thou may'st understand- Yet is it land, ho! land.
It's clad in purple mist, my land, In regal robe it is apparellèd, A crown is set upon its head, And on its breast a golden band- Land, ho! land.
Dost wonder that I long for land? My land is not a land as others are- Upon its crest there beams a star, And lilies grow upon the strand- Land, ho! land.
Give me the helm! there is the land! Ha! lusty mariners, she takes the breeze! And what my spirit sees it sees- Leap, bark, as leaps the thunderbrand- Land, ho! land.