Henry Newbolt

Homeward Bound

After long labouring in the windy ways,
  On smooth and shining tides
  Swiftly the great ship glides,
    Her storms forgot, her weary watches past;
Northward she glides, and through the enchanted haze
    Faint on the verge her far hope dawns at last.

The phantom sky-line of a shadowy down,
  Whose pale white cliffs below
  Through sunny mist aglow,
    Like noon-day ghosts of summer moonshine gleam---
Soft as old sorrow, bright as old renown,
    There lies the home, of all our mortal dream.