About the headlands and the rocky shoals
I hear the breath of twilight, sighing, sighing,
And over the wail and dash of breakers, crying,
The voices of old ships and wandering souls.
Through the wet air squadrons of gulls are flying,
Wheeling but once against the skies, then tossed
Into the wind like a flight of visions lost
With vanished souls into the darkness dying.
O harp of the winds singing above the dead,
O rush of wings over the turbulent deep,
Pray for the spirits uncompanioned,
The dreams returned into oblivion,
The men drifting far from the stars and sun,
Lost in a lonely night and a loveless sleep.