Impressions I. Les Silhouettes

Oscar Wilde

                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                  10
                The young brown-throated reapers pass,
            Like silhouettes against the sky.

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