Ebb Tide

by Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)

When the long day goes byAnd I do not see your face,The old wild, restless sorrowSteals from its hiding place.

My day is barren and broken,Bereft of light and song,A sea beach bleak and windyThat moans the whole day long.

To the empty beach at ebb tide,Bare with its rocks and scars,Come back like the sea with singing,And light of a million stars.