These long waves reach other shores

And fall on sunny sands,

Where another child gathers shells

With small soft brown hands.

Somewhere across this sea of mine,

Under different trees,

Children, playing feel their hair

Tossed by the same breeze.

Does a child there, playing alone,

Look out across the sea

To wonder about the other shore,

And think perhaps, of me?

O, you with the hair and hands of brown,

Can you sing to the sea's roar?

Can you did a greater castle than mine?

Child on the other shore?