In Bow Plane's Break of Shadowed Silver Waves – Sonnet Thirty-Seven

In bow plane's break of shadowed silver waves  
That show in waffled lines reflecting moon,  
In waves of broken light that running shaves,  
In runs for harbor's mouth in shadows strewn.  
 
The rigging sings it’s songs of sailor's night,  
In soul-felt dirge or graceful shanty’s reel,  
Where only stars remain to give us sight,  
Of those left by in thousand leagues' conceal.  
 
The glint of raven hair by North Star's shine,  
That circles heaven’s gate like burnished clouds.  
That bids me come o’er leagues of ocean's brine,  
That I bid come from full moon's tattered shroud.  
 
To seek our rest in running's foam and spray,  
That keeps us bound till running ends our stay.