A wind came up out of the west,
So rare
And so shiver of carols that rest,
Turning my cheeks
A cloud of slow descending,
Until the day bows low,
In velvet blue,
Ebbing the edges of sight
All change,
And the tremble of the flying-cut water
And the draw of the night,
As I wander,
Through stars beyond,
And follow the breath of sea.

• Edna St Vincent Millay