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.