Sonnets LXII: Off Ostende, June 11, 1837

But now the level sea-horizon spanned
With its unbroken line the azure round:
I look again, and see the waters crowned
With a pale coronet of distant land;
A shore by us untrodden and unknown,
Thronged with strange men, and voices' stranger sound;
Where we shall wander long, and none be found
To greet with kind salutes and call our own.
Yet even thus, with thee, wife of my love,
Enough the world is peopled; one fond heart
Resting on mine, with others I can part,
Prizing thy gentle excellence above
All native comfort; and, on land or sea,
Then best befriended if alone with thee.