Through spray of splintered star-beams, or white rage
Of desperate moon-drawn waters—on and on
To some blue sea’s unalterable calm
That ever like a slow-swung mirror rocks
The balanced breasts of sea-birds....
Yet other nights, my sister, you have been
The storm, and I the leaf that fled on it
Terrifically down voids that never knew
The pity of creation—till your touch
Has drawn me back to earth, as, in the dusk,