Arthur Quiller-Couch, comp. The Oxford Book of Victorian Verse. 1922.
Good NightJohn Nicol (18331894)
G
Farewell! the breeze is sighing
Along the harbour height;
The fleecy clouds are flying
Beneath Astarte’s light.
My mariners are crying
‘In favouring winds away!
And I, my love denying,
Must cleave th’ Aegean spray.
The song that the sea is singing
On the bay is tender and bright:
The bark like a bird is springing
And speeding from thy sight:
And a tune in my head is ringing
That thrills my heart for flight
Across the waves—soon winging
Return to thee, and bringing
Treasures for thy delight.
Good night, my love! good night!