NIGHT

The cold remote islands

And the blue estuaries

Where what breathes, breathes

The restless wind of the inlets,

And what drinks, drinks

The incoming tide;

Where shell and weed

Wait upon the salt wash of the sea,

And the clear nights of stars

Swing their lights westward

To set behind the land;

Where pulse clinging to the rocks

Renews itself forever;

Where, again on cloudless nights,

The water reflects

The firmament's partial setting;

--O remember

In your narrowing dark hours

That more things move

Than blood in the heart.

CONTRIBUTED BY P. MUSIC