Grew saffron underneath and, ere I knew,

The interspace, green-blue—

The whole, illimitable, western, skyey shore,

The tender, human, silent sunset smiled once more.

Thee, absent loved one, did I think on now,

Wondering if thy deep brow

In dreams of me were lifted to the skies,

Where, by our far sea-home, the sunlight dies;

If thou didst stand alone,

Watching the day pass slowly, slow, as here,