I see it as it looked one afternoonIn August,-by a fresh soft breeze o’erblown.The swiftness of the tide, the light thereon,A far-off sail, white as a crescent moon.The shining waters with pale currents strewn,The…
I see it as it looked one afternoonIn August,-by a fresh soft breeze o’erblown.The swiftness of the tide, the light thereon,A far-off sail, white as a crescent moon.The shining waters with pale currents strewn,The…