is men; And now he watched the sea, and then He peered as if to pierce the wood. He now looked back, as if pursued, Now swept the sea with glass, as though He fled or feared some hidden foe.
Swift sailing up the river's mouth, Swift tacking north, swift tacking south, He touched the overhanging wood; He tacked his ship; his tall black mast Touched tree-top mosses as he passed; He touched the steep shore where she stood.
Her hands still clasped as if in prayer, Sweet prayer set to silentness; Her sun-browned throat uplifted, bare And beautiful. Her eager face Illumed with love and tenderness, And all her presence gave such grace, Dark shadowed in her cloud of hair, That she seemed more than mortal fair.
He saw. He could not speak. No more With lifted glass he sought the sea; No more he watched the wild new shore. Now foes might come, now friends might flee; He could not speak, he would not stir,-- He saw but her, he feared but her.
The black ship ground agains