The gray sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and
low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from
their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed
i' the slushy sand.
2
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm
appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a
lighted match,
And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears,
Than
the two hearts beating each to each!