The Sabbath evening closes
In peace upon the sea,
And yon pale wave that flows is
Your messenger to me.

To Aber-Fraw the silent,
Its princely shades return,
But not the Princess I lent
The land where she was born.

The evening lights look lonely
From out the seaward street,
That used to beacon only
At eve, your tired feet.

Pale windows, darker doorways,
There look for you to come:
But love knows there are more ways
To call its sailors home.

And as the evening closes,
Your mystic sail I see:
And each pale wave that flows is
Your messenger to me.