Oscar Wilde (1854–1900). Poems. 1881.
34. Les Silhouettes
T
The dull dead wind is out of tune,
And like a withered leaf the moon
Is blown across the stormy bay.
The black boat lies: a sailor boy
Clambers aboard in careless joy
With laughing face and gleaming hand.
Where through the dusky upland grass
The young brown-throated reapers pass,
Like silhouettes against the sky.