The Old Sail-Boat By Francis Charles MacDonald

Dismasted, rudderless, sides agape,
She lies upon the beach a wreck,—
She that was wont, a lovely shape,
To sail with beauty on her deck.

Beneath the moon before the wind
She sped, and floods of silvery speech
Poured over her: yet now I find
Only the hulk upon the beach.

For they are gone; the house is gone;
Beauty has faded, lips are still:
The old boat on the beach alone
Lies in the shadow of the hill.