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Friday, March 10, 2017

She dresses herself, and goes gliding on

Song of the Boatman:

Bark that bears me through foam and squall,
You in the storm are my castle wall :
Though the sea should redden from bottom to top,
From tiller to mast she takes no drop ;

On the tide-top, the tide-top,
Wherry aroon, my land and store !
On the tide-top, the tide-top,
She is the boat can sail go-leor !

Samuel Ferguson.

ntodd

March 10, 2017 | Permalink

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