Stephen Crane






I explain the silvered passing of a ship at night, 
The sweep of each sad lost wave, 
The dwindling boom of the steel thing's striving, 
The little cry of a man to a man, 
A shadow falling across the greyer night, 
And the sinking of the small star; 

Then the waste, the far waste of waters, 
And the soft lashing of black waves 
For long and in loneliness. 

Remember, thou, O ship of love, 
Thou leavest a far waste of waters, 
And the soft lashing of black waves 
For long and in loneliness.