When the long days are over
And the night's gone by,
And I come home to you, love,
By the sea will we lie.
By the sea on the cushions
Of thyme and of thrift,
While the white gulls above us
On still wings drift.
I'll pluck the small flowers
To set in your hair;
And the wind will bring the sea's smell
To us lying there.
And the wind will bring the rumble
Of the stones on the shore:
There'll be joy in your eyes then
It's long since I saw.
And you'll be in my arms, love,
Lying close by me;
And we'll not see the gulls' wings,
And we'll not hear the sea.
John Buxton