Craven (Sir Henry Newbolt Poems)
Over the turret, shut in his iron-clad tower,Craven was conning his ship through smoke and flame;Gun to gun he had ...
Over the turret, shut in his iron-clad tower,Craven was conning his ship through smoke and flame;Gun to gun he had ...
By the hearth-stoneShe sits alone,The long night bearing:With eyes that gleamInto the dreamOf the firelight staring.Low and more lowThe dying ...
'Ye have robb'd,' said he, 'ye have slaughter'd and made an end, Take your ill-got plunder, and bury the dead: ...
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