The moon is in the marshes

The moon is in the marshes,

The gannets wheel and pass,

Casting wandering shadows

Over the mallow-grass;

Salt airs come lightly blowing

In from the open sea,

And I am dreaming, dreaming

In silent ecstasy.

A Christ-like quiet gathers

About my weary soul:

The wind wails in the marshes,

The tides tumble and roll;

The red moon sails in beauty

Over the open sea,

And I am dreaming, dreaming

In silent ecstasy.