I am the wind that wavers,
You are the certain land;
I am the shadow that passes
Over the sand.
...
A storm is riding on the tide;
Grey is the day and grey the tide,
Far-off the sea-gulls wheel and cry-
A storm draws near upon the tide.
...
The ships are lying in the bay,
The gulls are swinging round their spars;
My soul as eagerly as they
Desires the margin of the stars.
...
I
The ferries ply like shuttles in a loom,
And many barques come in across the bay
To lights and bells that signal through the gloom
...
I Am The Wind
I am the wind that wavers,
You are the certain land;
I am the shadow that passes
Over the sand.
I am the leaf that quivers,
You, the unshaken tree;
You are the stars that are steadfast,
I am the sea.
You are the light eternal-
Like a torch I shall die.
You are the surge of deep music,
I but a cry!