Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/479



Port-Reeve's maid has laid her down Upon a restless pillow, But wakeful thought is wander ng Ayont the ocean billow. Her love's away—he's far away— A world of waves asunder— Around him now the storm may burst With fearful peals of thunder!

But yet—the night-wind's breath is faint, The night-beam entereth meekly; But when the moon's fair face is free, Strange she should shine so weakly!— Yet guided by her waning beam His ship must swim securely— Beneath so fair a sky as this He'll strike his haven surely!