His sultry beam across the misted sea,
As if he grudged its darkling ministry.
He looks so covetous, I think he hides
—Jetsam of the slow ethereal tides—
Some cursed and battered Sailor of the Spheres:
All night he ravens on him and his peers,
But with the day he straddles monstrously
Across the earth in churlish shepherdry,
A-hungered for his hideous nightly feast.
But storms are gathering in the whitened East: