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WHY DON'T THEY COME TO SEA?
What do they see, these folks ashore that spend in
towns their lives, Or are tied to farms and fields at home with children
and with wives ? Everyday but just the same things each sees until he
dies, With, all life through, one spot of earth unchanged
before their eyes ; Each cottage, hedge, and pathway, each brook, and
lane so known, They'll tell the look of every bush, the place of every
stone; How they must bless the seasons and the changes that
they bring, That the Summer browns to Autumn and the Winter
greens to Spring!