Evening By Victoria Mary Sackville-West When little lights in little ports come out, Quivering down through water with the stars, And all the fishing fleet of slender spars Range at their moorings, veer with tide about; When race of wind is stilled and sails are furled, And underneath our single riding-light The curve of black-ribbed deck gleams palely white, And slumbrous waters pool a slumbrous world; Then, and then only, have I thought how sweet Old age might sink upon a windy youth, Quiet beneath the riding-light of truth, Weathered through storms, and gracious in retreat.

Question

Evening  By Victoria Mary Sackville-West   When little lights in little ports come out,  Quivering down through water with the stars,  And all the fishing fleet of slender spars  Range at their moorings, veer with tide about;   When race of wind is stilled and sails are furled,  And underneath our single riding-light  The curve of black-ribbed deck gleams palely white,  And slumbrous waters pool a slumbrous world;   Then, and then only, have I thought how sweet  Old age might sink upon a windy youth,  Quiet beneath the riding-light of truth,  Weathered through storms, and gracious in retreat.