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 />Lies the black boat: 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/les-silhouettes/
