I stood beside the postern here,
High up above the trampling sea,
In shadow, shrinking from the spear
Of light, not daring hence to flee.
The moon beyond the western cliff
Had passed, and let the shadow fall,
Across the water to the skiff
That came on to the castle wall.
I heard below murmur of words
Not loud, the splash upon the strand,
And the long cry of darkling birds.
The ivory horn fell from my hand.