Page:Old Melbourne Memories.djvu/261

 Low the deep voice of the ocean, whispering to the silent strand; Gleam the stars, in silver ripples; stretches broad the milk-white sand; And a long, low bark is lying underneath the island shore Weird and dream-like, darksome, soundless, spell-struck now, and evermore.

Deeper, darker fall the shadows, and the charmed colours wane, Fading, as the fay-gold changes into earth and dross again, Wildfowl stream in swaying files landward to the marshy plain; Louder sound the forest voices and the deep tones of the main.