SWIFTLY out from the friendly lilt of the band,
The crowd’s good laughter, the loved eyes of men,
  I am drawn nightward; I must turn again
Where, down beyond the low untrodden strand,
There curves and glimmers outward to the unknown        5

The old unquiet ocean. All the shade
Is rife with magic and movement. I stray alone
 Here on the edge of silence, half afraid,
  Waiting a sign. In the deep heart of me
The sullen waters swell towards the moon,       10

And all my tides set seaward.
  From inland
Leaps a gay fragment of some mocking tune,
That tinkles and laughs and fades along the sand,
And dies between the seawall and the sea.       15

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