When night falls soft upon the seas
When Moon in all her gleaming shines;
Among the stars, above the trees –
T’is then I look out upon the brine.
A song within its roaring keeps
A steady rhythm of the tide.
It calls me when my spirit weeps,
But, yet, I know that I must bide.
For in the crashing of its wave,
There lives a world that is not mine.
It sings and churns, but Heaven save
My soul, should I call that thrall divine.
I was made of earthly stuff – profane;
Beneath the azure stretch, I’d die.
But O! My soul I’d give to gain
A glimpse of what secrets in it lie…