WAVES

The evening sails come home

With twilight in their wings.

The harbour-light across the gloam

Springs;

The wind sings.

The waves begin to tell

The sea's night-sorrow o'er,

Weaving within their ancient spell

More

Than earth's lore.

The rising moon wafts strange

Low lures across the tide,

On which my dim thoughts seem to range,

Stride

Upon stride,

Until, with flooding thrill,

They seem at last to blend

With waves that from the Eternal Will

Wend,

Without end.