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,
And quench its speeed in the slushy sand.
Then a mile of warm sea-sented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp stratch,
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.!
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