Meeting at Night
Robert Browning
The gray sea and the long black land;Â
And the yellow half-moon large and low:Â
And the startled little waves that leapÂ
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,Â
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i’ the slushy sand.ÂThen a mile of warm sea-scented beach;Â
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;Â
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratchÂ
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, through joys and fears,Â
Than the two hearts beating each to each!