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 havoc-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.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
The script ran 0.001 seconds.
