Robert Crawford

1868 - 13 January 1930 / Australia

The Ghost Ship.

Behold her on the silent sea,
Yon vessel like a spirit there!
Moved in a dream's reality,
As if she trod the air.
None can tell from what creek or bay
She sailed out, or by night or day;
They watch her like a vision gone
Over the sea's oblivion.
And, lo! she fades a spectre thin,
Part of the moonlight and the sea;
As if the waves and stars met in
A moment's phantasy!
Or is it they stand hushed apart
And listen to her breathing heart,
As if the ghostly pulses stirred
To the voice of a faery bird.
A bird that chaunts somewhere between
The waters and the starry skies
A mystic song of what has been
Seen not of human eyes
Since when the world grew into birth,
And the white Moon enamoured Earth:
And she as in a vision gone
Moves to the music on — and on.
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