I strayed about the deck, an hour, to-night
Under a cloudy moonless sky; and peeped
In at the windows, watched my friends at table,
Or playing cards, or standing in the doorway,
Or coming out into the darkness. Still
No one could see me.
I would have thought of them
Heedless, within a week of battlein pity,
Pride in their strength and in the weight and firmness
And linkd beauty of bodies, and pity that
This gay machine of splendour ld soon be broken,
Thought little of, pashed, scattered, . . .
Only, always,
I could but see themagainst the lamplightpass
Like coloured shadows, thinner than filmy glass,
Slight bubbles, fainter than the waves faint light,
That broke to phosphorus out in the night,
Perishing things and strange ghostssoon to die
To other ghoststhis one, or that or I.