Author William Ernest Henley The surges gushed and sounded,The blue was the blue of June,And low above the brightening eastFloated a shred of moon.The woods were black and solemn,The night winds large and free,And in your thought a blessing seemedTo fall on land and sea. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments