Page:Verses–Blanche·Baughan-1898.pdf/62

 A night’s fog for the fisher-boats, A night’s fog for the sea— Night on night, day on day A life’s fog for me.

North I turn, but never his face I find; South,—but it is not there! Night cannot lull my sorrow asleep, nor dawn Awaken my despair.

But, oft-times, twixt the rim of the dying day, And the rim of the darkening sea, Hope spies the pearly gleam of that far-off Sail, Will give him back to me!