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9.Yes, my brother, I know,
The rest might not—but I have treasured every note,
For once, and more than once, dimly, down to the
beach gliding,
Silent, avoiding the moonbeams, blending myself with
the shadows.
Recalling now the obscure shapes, the echoes, the
sounds and sights after their sorts,
The white arms out in the breakers tirelessly tossing,
I, with bare feet, a child, the wind wafting my hair,
Listened long and long.

10.Listened, to keep, to sing—now translating the
notes,
Following you, my brother.

11.Soothe! Soothe!
Close on its wave soothes the wave behind,
And again another behind, embracing and lapping,
every one close,
But my love soothes not me.

12.Low hangs the moon—it rose late,
O it is lagging—O I think it is heavy with love.

13.O madly the sea pushes upon the land,
With love—with love.

14.O night!
O do I not see my love fluttering out there among the
breakers?
What is that little black thing I see there in the
white?