The cold flat oceans a green mirror heave
Beneath the rocks that bord a dreary land.
A sea-gull wings the air, his plumage red
With rays of light shot from this rosy eve.
All languishes as if an unseen hand
Had hypnotised the world, or from it bled
Its life-blood. Rocks are smooth, and sweet airs leave
A fragrance subtle stealing o’er the sand,
Ere swims the moon when day is fled.
There in the twilight where cloud streamers weave
Appears a vision that to my heart brings
A strange excitement. A three-masted barque,
Softly, mysteriously, floats through the dark
Like a black swan, immense, with folded wings.
Weekly Times 2.12.60