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WILD wintry wind, storm through the
night,
Dash the black clouds against the sky,
Hiss through the billows seething white,
Fling the rock-surf in spray on high.
Hurl the high seas on harbour bars,
Madden them with thy havock-shriek
Against the crimson beacon-stars -
Thy rage no more can make me weak.
The ship rides safely in the bay,
The ship that held my hope in her -
Whirl on, wild wind, in thy wild fray
We hear our whispers through the stir. |
