At dawn the fleet stretched miles away
On ocean-plains asleep,—
Trim vessels waiting for the day
To move across the deep.
So still the sails they seemed to be
White lilies growing in the sea.
When evening touched the cape's low rim,
And dark fell on the waves,
We only saw processions dim
Of clouds, from shadowy caves;
These were the ghosts of buried ships
Gone down in one brief hour's eclipse!