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!
More verses by Herman Melville
- Pebbles
- The Ravaged Villa
- Sheridan At Cedar Creek
- On The Grave Of A Young Cavalry Officer Killed In The Valley Of Virginia
- The Released Rebel Prisoner