White Horses (Rudyard Kipling Poem)
Where run your colts at pasture? Where hide your mares to breed? 'Mid bergs about the Ice-cap Or wove Sargasso ...
Where run your colts at pasture? Where hide your mares to breed? 'Mid bergs about the Ice-cap Or wove Sargasso ...
God gave all men all earth to love, But, since our hearts are small Ordained for each one spot should ...
Hear now the Song of the Dead -- in the North by the torn berg-edges -- They that look still ...
We've sent our little Cupids all ashore -- They were frightened, they were tired, they were cold: Our sails of ...
The dead child lay in the shroud, And the widow watched beside; And her mother slept, and the Channel swept ...
Our brows are bound with spindrift and the weed is on our knees; Our loins are battered 'neath us by ...
I. If It be pleasant to look on, stalled in the packed serai, Does not the Young Man try Its ...
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