Haunted Seas

A gleaming glassy ocean, Under a sky of gray; A tide that dreams of motion, Or moves, as the dead may; A bird that dips and wavers Over lone waters round, Then with a cry that quavers Is gone--a spectral sound.

The brown sad sea-weed drifting Far from the land, and lost. The faint warm fog unlifting, The derelict long-tossed, But now at rest--tho haunted By the death-scenting shark, Whose prey no more undaunted Slips from it, spent and stark.