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.