"Meeting at Night"
By: Robert Browning
The grey sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startle little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cave with pushing prow,
And quench it's speed I the slushy land.
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of lighted match,
And a voice less loud, thro' its joys and fears,
than the two hearts beating each to each.
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