Gentle wins

Waves scream in black,
toss wild and throw their mane;
no harness strains them back,
none can pull their rein.

Yet, beneath chaste bow -

flaxen curve, halcyon;

they are bound and won.

Nary a touch
In tempest night,
subdues without a fight.

What might is such?

Lustrous ascent,
conquers
without consent.

'Tis the pearl of night!

This gentle sphere,
who maims the waves
and holds the tide in fear.