RED banners unfurlin the late evening fires
Beyond the etched trees and the golden-tipped spires.
Ablaze as with brands is the high headland crest,
And smoky the mountains that lie to the west.
In gloom lie the waves where the ship cuts a path,
But shot with pale light are they spray and the froth.
Dark dims the world as the sun sinks to rest,
Drawing a veil over leaping desires;
Now fades the coastline as onward we flee –
I’m alone with my thoughts and the alien sea!
1. 10. 1927