Robert Browning (1812–1889)

Meeting at Night 1845

The gray sea and the long black land;

And the yellow half-moon large and low;

And the startled little waves that leap

In firey ringlets from their sleep,

As I gain the cove with pushing prow, 5

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, 10

And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears,

Than the two hearts beating each to each!