Герман Мелвилл (Herman Melville)

Far Off-Shore

     Look, the raft, a signal flying,
       Thin—a shred;
     None upon the lashed spars lying,
       Quick or dead.

     Cries the sea-fowl, hovering over,
       "Crew, the crew?"
     And the billow, reckless, rover,
       Sweeps anew!

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