: Can you guess? [I'll post the answer in a comment.]
The sea is flecked with bars of grey,
The dull dead wind is out of tune,
And like the 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.
Here's a hint: It's old enough to not be protected by copyright...and no fair Googling! Well...I guess you can, seeing as that's what I would do if I didn't recognise it off the bat.
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