The grey 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
A quench its speed I’ the slushy sand
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach
There 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 vice less loud, thro’ its joys and fears
Than the two hearts beating each to each!