Lay resting, as if she had run
Some splendid race through seas, and won
The right to rest in salt flood bay,—
And lay until the level sun
Uprose, and then she fell away,
As mists melt in the full of day.
Old Morgan lifts his bony hand,
He does not speak or make command,—
Short time for wonder, doubt, delay;
Dark objects sudden heave in sight