Geoffrey H. Crump
In perfect contrast—like the peace of death
After life's glare—the grandeur of the night.
In empty sky, still tinged with wondrous blue,
The full moon hung, displaying royally
Her cold and naked beauty, as she threw
Her path of silver moonbeams on the sea.
God showed me then, that, if we learn to love
The beauties that He sends us in our day,
More lovely yet will night celestial prove—
The perfect calm of passions passed away.
Indian Ocean, November, 1916.
Off St. Helena
WHEN I sit silent on the swaying deck,
And drink in the soft splendour of the night,
The pale, proud moon; the sky, all cloud a-fleck;
The silver balls of phosphorescent light
In the white foam; the davits curving black
Against the sky; the tall and stately mast,
Swinging from star to star—though these all lack
Nothing of beauty, perfect, pure, and vast,
'Tis naught to me: save that I may devise
That I do look again into your eyes.
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