Classic Poem

A LONG the grey and saturated shore
A grey sea creeps. There is no wave in sight;
With gentle ripple and with sad, faint sound,
The evening tide flows in. A wind from shore
Blows cool by fits; dark clouds about the West
Take angry colours; and the blue looks dim,
When o'er the sea that pale blue light looms forth.
Will not one star above the waters shine
High over tide and coast? ... But, see, the moon —
The moon late born — a slender line of light
Shews faintly towards the West, 'twixt stormy clouds.