"When shall we sleep?" cries the sea
to her lover, the land,
and she smoothes his brow
with her cool white fingers,
and strokes his hand.
"When shall we lie
with only the sough
of the wind in the bough
and the song of the wind on the foam,
earth-music and sea-music,
for lullaby?"

"When the ways of men be dust,
and the days of men be past,
and earth be free
of the feet of men,
and you, O my lover, the sea,
unburdened of all your ships …
then shall we take our rest
page 210 like lovers, breast to breast,
then shall we lie in peace,
dark lips on paler lips
quietly at the last,
and sleep again…"