 | Collected poems of Herman Melville |  |
197
FAR OFF-SHORE
Look, the raft, a signal flying,
Thin—a shred;
None upon the lashed spars lying,
Quick or dead.
Thin—a shred;
None upon the lashed spars lying,
Quick or dead.
Cries the sea-fowl, hovering over,
“Crew, the crew?”
And the billow, reckless, rover,
Sweeps anew!
“Crew, the crew?”
And the billow, reckless, rover,
Sweeps anew!
| Collected poems of Herman Melville | |