Sail. The

One shining sail at dawn there went, untorn
By stress of beating gales;
Unweary seemed she of the winds, unworn
By aught that weareth sails.

Light through the sun like a discarded feather
Sunk to that wrinkling glass,
She sped, and with the young wild winds together
Out from my bay did pass.

And I who thrilled, so watching, never guessed
Till she, at noon, a common craft came by,
Her glow had been the morning in my breast,
Her eagerness was I.
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