Les Silhouettes

Les Silhouettes

The sea is flecked with bars of grey，

The dull dead wind is out of tune，

And like a withered leaf the moon

Is blown across the stormy bay.

Etched clear upon the pallid sand

Lies the black boat： 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.