Nights on the Indian Ocean,
Long nights of moon and foam,
When silvery Venus low in the sky
Follows the sun home.
Long nights when the wild monsoon
Is breaking south-by-west,
And when soft clouds and the singing shrouds
Make all that is seem best.

Nights on the Indian Ocean,
Long nights of space and dream,
When silent Sirius round the Pole
Swings on with steady gleam;
When oft the pushing prow
Seems pressing where before
No prow has ever pressed—or shall
From hence for evermore.

Nights on the Indian Ocean,
Long nights—with land at last,
Dim land, dissolving the long sea-spell
Into a sudden past—
That seems as far away
As this our life shall seem
When under the shadow of death's shore
We drop its ended dream.