Meeting at Night

(by Robert Browning)


The grey sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.

Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!

The Shadow of Curls!

Glistening skin and gleaming eyes,
the curl swirls with flaunting cries.
Corner of your lip, up till the mast,
fiery red, clean white, Black cuts a holy contrast.
Just as I click,
White whitens, Black brightens,
daunty is but bounty!
daunty is but bounty!