A Marine Etching
by
A yacht from its harbour ropes pulled free,
And leaped like a steed o’er the race-track blue,
Then up behind her the dust of the sea,
A gray fog, drifted, and hid her from view.
A yacht from its harbour ropes pulled free,
And leaped like a steed o’er the race-track blue,
Then up behind her the dust of the sea,
A gray fog, drifted, and hid her from view.