|
|||||||||||||
Far Off-Shore By Herman Melville  |
|||||||||||||
 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! | |||||||||||||
 | |||||||||||||
|