Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3831/Searchlights on the Mersey
A long lean bar of silver spans The ebon-rippled water-way, And like a lost moon's errant rayStrikes on the passing caravans—
Ghost-ships that from the desert seas Loom silent through the steady beams, Pale phantoms of clusive dreamsCargoed with ancient memories.
Through the long night across the cool Black waters to their shrouded berth, Bearing the treasures of the earth,Glide the fair ships to Liverpool.