By Jean Starr Untermeyer
I edged back against the night
The sea growled assault on the wave-bitten shore.
And the breakers,
Like young, impatient hounds,
Sprang with rough joy in the shrinking sand.
Sprang–but were drawn back slowly,
With a long, relentless pull,
Whimpering into the dark.
Then I saw who held them captive;
And I saw how they were bound
With a long and quivering leash of light,
Held by the moon,
As calm and unsmiling,
she walked the deep fields of the sky.