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is the sea?—I languish here— Where is my own blue sea? With all its barks in fleet career, And flags, and breezes free.

I miss that voice of waves which first Awoke my childhood's glee; The measured chime—the thundering burst— Where is my own blue sea?

Oh! rich your myrtle's breath may rise, Soft, soft your winds may be; Yet my sick heart within me dies— Where is my own blue sea?