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Les Silhouettes

by Oscar Wilde, 1881

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

Published in Poems

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