That scud and tack and dip under the gray and the blue;
A single gull that floats and skims the waters, and flies on,
Till she is lost like a dream in the haze of the distance, too.
"A steamer that rises a smoke, then after a tall, dark funnel,
That moves like a shadow across your water and sky's gray edge;
A dull, hard beat of a wave that diggeth himself a tunnel,
Down in the crevices dark under my limestone ledge.
"And here I lie on my ledge, and listen the songs you sing me,
Songs of vapour and blue, songs of island and shore;
And strange and glad are the hopes and sweet are the thoughts you bring me