Les Silhouettes

The sea is fleck'd with bars of gray,

The dull dead wind is out of tune,

And like a wither'd leaf the moon

Is blown across the stormy bay.

Etched clear upon the pallid sand

The black boat lies: a sailor boy

Clambers aboard in careless joy,

With laughing face and gleaming hand.

And overhead the curlews cry,

Where through the dusky upland grass

The young brown-throated reapers pass,

Like silhouettes against the sky.