| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895. |
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| The Tryst of the Night |
| | | Mary C. G. Byron (b. 1861) |
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| OUT of the uttermost ridge of dusk, where the dark and the day are mingled, | |
| The voice of the Night rose cold and calm—it called through the shadow-swept air; | |
| Through all the valleys and lone hillsides, it pierced, it thrilled, it tingled— | |
| It summoned me forth to the wild seashore, to meet with its mystery there. | |
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| Out of the deep ineffable blue, with palpitant swift repeating | 5 |
| Of gleam and glitter and opaline glow, that broke in ripples of light— | |
| In burning glory it came and went,—I heard, I saw it beating, | |
| Pulse by pulse, from star to star,—the passionate heart of the Night! | |
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| Out of the thud of the rustling sea—the panting, yearning, throbbing | |
| Waves that stole on the startled shore, with coo and mutter of spray— | 10 |
| The wail of the Night came fitful-faint,—I heard her stifled sobbing: | |
| The cold salt drops fell slowly, slowly, gray into gulfs of gray. | |
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| There through the darkness the great world reeled, and the great tides roared, assembling— | |
| Murmuring hidden things that are past, and secret things that shall be; | |
| There at the limits of life we met, and touched with a rapturous trembling— | 15 |
| One with each other, I and the Night, and the skies, and the stars, and sea. | |
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