Meeting at Night    

By Robert Browning 

The gray 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 joys and fears, 

Than the two hearts beating each to each!