When the Wind Is Low

WHEN the wind is low, and the sea is soft,

And the far heat-lightning plays

On the rim of the west where dark clouds nest

On a darker bank of haze;

When I lean o’er the rail with you that I love

And gaze to my heart’s content;

I know that the heavens are there above—

But you are my firmament.

When the phosphor-stars are thrown from the bow

And the watch climbs up the shroud;

When the dim mast-dips as the vessel slips

Through the foam that seethes aloud;

I know that the years of our life are few,

And fain as a bird to flee,

That time is as brief as a drop of dew—

But you are Eternity.