And scarcely heeded that my wrists were loosed.
And, huddled in a stifling hut,
That night, among my fellows,
I could not sleep at all:
But gazed, wild-eyed, till dawn upon that face,
Which hovered o'er me, like the moon of dreams;
And seemed to draw the wandering tides of life
In one vast wave, which ever strove
To climb the heavens wherein she moved,
That it might break in triumphing foam about her.