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 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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VILLA PAULINE by KATHERINE MANSFIELD YOUNG BLOOD by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET WORDS IN A CERTAIN APPROPRIATE MODE by HAYDEN CARRUTH GOAL by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE AUDACIOUS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |