It is not every wind that can blow you from your anchorage
It lends no dazzling tints to fancy
It moved me to a strange exhilaration
It parted to a liquid horizon and showed the gray rim of the sea
It proved a bitter disillusion
It seemed intolerably tragic
It seemed to exhale a silent and calm authority
It was a breathless night of suspense
It was a desolating vision
It was a night of little ease to his toiling mind