To the Sea, to the Sea!
The white gulls are crying,
The wind is blowing,
and the white foam is flying.
West, west away,
the round sun is falling.
Grey ship, grey ship,
do you hear them calling,
The voices of my people
that have gone before me?
I will leave, I will leave
the woods that bore me;
For our days are ending
and our years failing.
I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing.
Long are the waves
on the Last Shore falling,
Sweet are the voices
in the Lost Isle calling,
In Eressëaut, in Elvenhome
that no man can discover,
Where the leaves fall not:
land of my people for ever!

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