Waves

The evening sails come home
  With twilight in their wings.
The harbour-light across the gloam
        Springs;
      The wind sings.

The waves begin to tell
  The sea’s night-sorrow o’er,
Weaving within their ancient spell
        More
      Than earth’s lore.

The rising moon wafts strange
  Low lures across the tide,
On which my dim thoughts seem to range,
        Stride
      Upon stride,

Until, with flooding thrill,
  They seem at last to blend
With waves that from the Eternal Will
        Wend,
      Without end.