And now this best of silence,—
I hear the feathery song
Come low upon the sea,
And I wander as the drift
Flies down the sweep of the land
To listen for the tide,
And swallow the distance;
For each turning I will keep
The salt kiss of this light
Cling forever to me,
In this rare of moments,
Matching the shadow of clouds
And stars past that shadow.

• Edna St Vincent Millay