  We lay by the sea, and knew Darkness must make us one: Heaven was thrilled clean through By the trumpets of the sun, The sea burned gold and blue. The sand in the pale heat Was parched as desert sand— Your wrist where the veins meet, The cool veins of your hand, Made thirst seem bitter-sweet. Never a word was said Of what must be so soon; In longing and in dread The golden afternoon Burned down, till dusk was shed. It was not hope, nor fear, Yet something of them both, That held us trembling here, Half eager and half loath For darkness, dread but dear. Few were the words were spoken, But in each other’s eyes We read the certain token That sealed our destinies— Our wings of pride were broken. So, while the waters paled Around us, and the west Fainted, our hearts that failed, In silence were confessed. Silence at last prevailed. And now up her clear stair The evening-star began To climb, where heaven was bare A homing fish-hawk ran Down avenues of air. Night swallowed up the sun, And darkness, like a hood, Sank—and the sea breathed on; In silence and solitude |
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