/0/15767/coverbig.jpg?v=727daebcfa9b3f1b9c867b08c7f16260)
And full of hope, day followed day,
While that stout ship at anchor lay
Beside the shores of Wight.
The May had then made all things green,
And floating there, in pomp serene,
That ship was goodly to be seen,
His pride and his delight.
Yet then when called ashore, he sought
The tender peace of rural thought,
In more than