And so the very sweetness of her life,
Its exquisite simplicity and calm,
Musical in its silence, smote the ear
More sharply than the discords of the rest.
So do we grow accustomed far at sea
To jar and clang of harsh machinery,
And sleep profoundly in our narrow berths
Amid the turmoil; but if suddenly
The noisy whirr is silent, and the deep
Low murmur of the moonlit sea is all