SEA SPRAY &> SMOKE DRIFT 



Behind a curtain of sable cloud, 



With a fringe of scarlet and gold ; 

 There's a misty glare in the yellow moon, 



And the drift is scudding fast, 

 There'll be storm and rattle, and tempest soon, 



When the heavens are overcast. 

 The neutral tint of the sullen sea 



Is fleck'd with the snowy foam, 

 And the distant gale sighs drearilie. 



As the wanderer sighs for his home. 

 The white sea-horses toss their manes 



On the bar of the southern reef. 

 And the breakers moan, and — by Jove, it rains 



(I thought I should come to grief) ; 

 Though it can't well damage my shabby hat, 



Though my coat looks best when it's damp, 

 Since the shaking I got (no matter where at), 



I've a mortal dread of the cramp. 

 My matches are wet, my pipe's put out. 



And the wind blows colder and stronger ; 

 I'll be stiff, and sore, and sorry, no doubt, 



If I lie here any longer. 



