Last night the sea was an enchanted moan

And a pale pathway that the moonlight made.

All night it sorrowed in the dark alone,

Groping with ghostly fingers, half afraid,

Up the great rocks and sobbing back again,

Weary of search, yet still unsatisfied.

It seemed to have the voice of all dead men

And all fair women who had ever died.

But now the sun has risen, and the spray

Leaps into sudden light along the shore.

Each little wave has caught a golden ray—

As if the dawn had never come before.

Beyond the cliffs brown fishing boats go by

Under the reach of the wide laughing sky.