With music unheard

In the light of her lips,

In the life-giving word

Of the dewfall that drips

On the grasses of earth, and the wind that enkindles the wings of the ships.

White glories of wings

As of seafaring birds

That flock from the springs

Of the sunrise in herds

With the wind for a herdsman, and hasten or halt at the change of his words.

As the watchword's change

When the wind's note shifts,

And the skies grow strange,

And the white squall drifts

Up sharp from the sea-line, vexing the sea till the low cloud lifts.

At the charge of his word

Bidding pause, bidding haste,

When the ranks are stirred

And the lines displaced,

They scatter as wild swans parting adrift on the wan green waste.

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