Rhymes of the Firing Line e-bog

Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. It was the Good Wind said: Mother, I come from a pathless sea Where none before had gone, save me; And there I saw with infinite dread A lonely ship; Battered and worn from a desperate trip. Mother, aloft your flag it bore Crirnson and blue and White it shone; And high above the sea's sad roar Voices I heard that echo-cd your own. And strange men sang a song A song that breathed of liope!