IMPRESSIONS

I

LES SILHOUETTES

   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.

II

LA FUITE DE LA LUNE

   To outer senses there is peace,

   A dreamy peace on either hand

   Deep silence in the shadowy land,

Deep silence where the shadows cease.

   Save for a cry that echoes shrill

   From some lone bird disconsolate;

   A corncrake calling to its mate;

The answer from the misty hill.

   And suddenly the moon withdraws

   Her sickle from the lightening skies,

   And to her sombre cavern flies,

Wrapped in a veil of yellow gauze.