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THE HARBOUR
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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67

THE HARBOUR

And, having crossed the foaming harbour-bar,
Thou art the placid harbour, safe within:
Oh outside now is all the waters' din,
And outside now the thundering breakers are.
Lo! pleasure and a calm abode we win:
In pale-green sky glimmers the evening star.
Over the steel-grey waste where we have been
Rises divine the white moon's pearly car.
Thou art the perfect harbour, sweet Gertrude,
Within whose limits we may dream of rest,
Forgetting all the winds and waters rude,
Lulled softly by the heart-beat in thy breast,
That tide which hurts not, but which lifts the head
Gently and woos it to sweet sleep instead.