And, as into the tiny creek We stole beneath the hanging crag, We saw three queer, black, ugly birds-- Too big, by far, in my belief, For guillemot or shag-- Like seamen sitting bolt-upright Upon a half-tide reef: But, as we neared, they plunged from sight, Without a sound, or spurt of white. And still too mazed to speak, We landed; and made fast the boat; And climbed the track in single file, Each wishing he was safe afloat, On any sea, however far, So it be far from Flannan Isle: And still we seemed to climb, and climb, As though we’d lost all count of time, And so must climb for evermore. Yet, all too soon, we reached the door-- The black, sun-blistered lighthouse-door, That gaped for us ajar. As, on the threshold, for a spell, We paused, we seemed to breathe the smell Of limewash and of tar, Familiar as our daily breath, As though ’twere some strange scent of death And so, yet wondering, side by side, We stood a moment, still tongue-tied: And each with black foreboding eyed The door, ere we should fling it wide, To leave the sunlight for the gloom: Till, plucking courage up, at last, Hard on each other’s heels we passed, Into the living-room. Yet, as we crowded through the door, We only saw a table, spread For dinner, meat and cheese and bread; But, all untouched; and no one there: As though, when they sat down to eat, Ere they could even taste, Alarm had come; and they in haste Had risen and left the bread and meat: For at the table-head a chair Lay tumbled on the floor. We listened; but we only heard The feeble cheeping of a bird That starved upon its perch: And, listening still, without a word, We set about our hopeless search. We hunted high, we hunted low; And soon ransacked the empty house; Then o’er the Island, to and fro, We ranged, to listen and to look In every cranny, cleft or nook That might have hid a bird or mouse: But, though we searched from shore to shore, We found no sign in any place: And soon again stood face to face Before the gaping door: And stole into the room once more As frightened children steal. Aye: though we hunted high and low, And hunted everywhere, Of the three men’s fate we found no trace Of any kind in any place, But a door ajar, and an untouched meal, And an overtoppled chair.