Poem by 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!

1. The Enviable Isles
2. Old Counsel
3. The Night March
4. Lines Traced under an Image of Amor Threatening
5. To the Master of the Meteor

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