August Sailing

IN the bright morn from out the little bay
We slowly drifted, and at noon the wind,
O’ercome with heat, had flagged and dropped behind. Under the tyrannous sunshine all the day
We moved so lazily one scarce could say
We moved at all. Upon the deck at night,
Beside the moon-blanched sail, beneath the bright,
High-hung, great stars, with open eyes we lay;
Slept for a moment in the utter hush,
Then waked again to hear the sudden rush
Of swift-flowing water, as we made our way
Straight to the east, and coming o’er the sea
Saw the young morn, that with slow, sweet delay
Began to draw her veil of mystery.