Charlotte Smith(1749–1806)
Written near a Port on a Dark Evening
Huge vapors brood above the clifted shore,
Night on the Ocean settles, dark and mute,
Save where is heard the repercussive roar
Of drowsy billows, on the rugged footwaves
Of rocks remote; or still more distant tone
Of seamen in the anchored bark that tellship
The watch relieved; or one deep voice alone
Singing the hour, and bidding "Strike the bell.
All is black shadow, but the lucid line
Marked by the light surf on the level sand,
Or where afar the ship-lights faintly shine
Like wandering fairy fires,6 that oft on land
Mislead the Pilgrim—Such the dubious ray
That wavering Reason lends, in life's long darkling way.