The sun sank low; beyond the harbor bar
The waves ran white and high;
The reefed sails of a vessel showed afar
Against the gray-blue sky.
Sharp called the gulls, as 'mid the tossing spray
They circled swift; and loud
The north wind roared, as it rushed down the bay,
And rent the seaward cloud.
Past the old lighthouse, rising white and tall,
Like birds the wind deceives,
Swept from the forest by the surging squall,
Sail the sear autumn leaves.
Fast o'er the dark and foam-capped waves they fly,
Brown ghosts of May and June,
Seeking the ship tossed up along the sky
Beneath a thin, white moon.
Then as they sped on to the shadows gray,
The sun sank lower down,
Sending a golden light across the bay,
And through the dark old town.
It made the church spires glow with shifting light,
That slow grew faint and pale,
As it was borne into the coming night
By the swift rushing gale.
The shadows darkened, and along the sea
The swaying ship had flown;
The sun was gone; one bright star glisteningly,
Near to the moon outshone.
Through crimson, flame, amber and paling gold,
Faded the day's sweet light;
And on the sea and land gathered the cold,
Gray shadows of the night.
