Where else but on an island rimmed with wind.

Could there be quiet in the heart, and space,

And sun. There falls a thinned

Crying overhead, where dark wings dip and race,

Throwing a shadow on no upturned face but mine.

Where could I deepen a harbor

To receive the sails that wait

Beyond the curved world;

To discharge their holds, and from my mind.

Send out invisible freight?

There is no peace upon the sea,

There is no quiet in the land.

But here beneath God's hand.

Curved over this ring of shore,

Inside this wall of wind upon my quiet island,

Night merges with to-day, and days before.

The soul goes up, the eye goes out -

And yet between the welcome ships that come

I swing my window to the wild sea-rain,

And feel the wet wind on my breast and know

The loneliness of islands and the pain.