Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/211



The stars are dimly seen among the shadows of the bay, And lights that win are seen in strife with lights that die away:

The wave is very still—the rudder loosens in our hand, The zephyr will not fill our sail and waft us to the land; O precious is the pause between the winds that come and go, And sweet the silence of the shores between the ebb and flow.