Sail Away

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Bark Vernon, Page 162 of 256

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Revision as of Dec 21, 2016, 11:59:45 AM
edited by Mdieteri
Revision as of Dec 21, 2016, 12:28:37 PM
edited by Mdieteri
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July the 20th, 57.
 
July the 20th, 57.
These 24th hr [commence] with fresh gales from South East the weather still mild and pleasant How soft is the air that every nerve and pulse are playful with the music of its breath under the line in the region of eternal Summer dwelling place of the mighty Sun!
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These 24th hr [commence] with fresh gales from South East the weather still mild and pleasant How soft is the air that every nerve and pulse are playful with the music of its breath under the line in the region of eternal Summer, dwelling place of the mighty Sun! How glorious is  his home on the pathless Sea the luxuriuant earth his pleasant gifts are ever before us But the Sea grows into calmness the eternal commotion of its coulers their glareing blue melting melting into the heavens over them we cannot but Sigh for the forms of things familiar and beloved the quiet Shade of green young trees the high and glorious mountain the emboured valley the  fields of waving grain with the rich tinge of autumn upon it and The Song of the reaper and husbandman when it is gathered home for the winters Store
  
How glorious is  his home on the pathless dew the luxuriuant earth his pleasant gifts are ever before us But the Sea grows into calmness the eternal consumation of its coulers the glareing blue melting melting into the heavens over them of green young trees the high and we cannot but sigh for the forms of things familiar and beloved the quiet shade glorious mountain, (illegible ) the  fields of waving grain with the rich tinge of autumn on it The Song of the reaper and husbandman when its gathered home for the winters store.
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Oh cruel was my father that Shut the doors on me and far worse was my mother for plainly She could see for cold cold was the winter night that pierced my heart with cold and far worse was the false young man that Sold his love for gold
  
Oh cruel was my father that shut the doors on me and far worse was my mother for plainly she could see for cold cold was the wintery night that pierced my heart with cold and far worse was the false young man that told his love for you.
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Barqe Vernon
 
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Barque Vernon
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Revision as of Dec 21, 2016, 12:28:37 PM

brows on which no shadow of grief has fallen that would rob us of our dear joy in that hour of our meeting! So ends these 24 hours

July the 20th, 57. These 24th hr [commence] with fresh gales from South East the weather still mild and pleasant How soft is the air that every nerve and pulse are playful with the music of its breath under the line in the region of eternal Summer, dwelling place of the mighty Sun! How glorious is his home on the pathless Sea the luxuriuant earth his pleasant gifts are ever before us But the Sea grows into calmness the eternal commotion of its coulers their glareing blue melting melting into the heavens over them we cannot but Sigh for the forms of things familiar and beloved the quiet Shade of green young trees the high and glorious mountain the emboured valley the fields of waving grain with the rich tinge of autumn upon it and The Song of the reaper and husbandman when it is gathered home for the winters Store

Oh cruel was my father that Shut the doors on me and far worse was my mother for plainly She could see for cold cold was the winter night that pierced my heart with cold and far worse was the false young man that Sold his love for gold

Barqe Vernon