Night, a grey sky, a ghostly sea,
The soft beginning of the rain.
Black on the horizon, sails that wane
Into the distance mistily.

The tide is rising.  I can hear
The soft roar broadening along;
It cries and murmurs in my ears
A sleepy old forgotten song.

Softly the stealthy night descends,
The black sails fade into the sky;
Is not this, where the sea-line ends,
The shoreline of infinity?

I cannot think or dream; the grey
Unending waste of sea and night,
Dull, impotently infinite,
Blots out the very hope of day.