THE sea is flecked with bars of grey <br /> The dull dead wind is out of tune, <br /> And like a withered leaf the moon <br /> Is blown across the stormy bay. <br /> <br /> Etched clear upon the pallid sand <br /> The black boat lies: a sailor boy <br /> Clambers aboard in careless joy <br /> With laughing face and gleaming hand. <br /> <br /> And overhead the curlews cry, <br /> Where through the dusky upland grass <br /> The young brown-throated reapers pass, <br /> Like silhouettes against the sky.<br /><br />Oscar Wilde<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/impressions-i-les-silhouettes/
