If once you have slept on an island
You'll never quite be the same;
You may look as you looked the day before
And go by the same old name.
You may bustle about in street and shop,
You may sit at home and sew,
But you'll see blue water and wheeling gulls
Wherever your feet may go.
You may chat with the neighbors of this and that
And close to your fire keep
But you'll hear ship whistle and lighthouse bell
And tides beat through your sleep.
Oh, you won't know why, and you can't say how
Such a change upon you came,
But - once you've slept on an island
You'll never quite be the same.
- Rachel Field
