Where dwellest thou?
Under the canopy.
Under the canopy!
Ay!
Where's that?
I' the city of kites and crows.
I' the city of kites and crows!—
Then thou dwellest with daws, too?
No: I serve not thy master.
3
Strike | till the last armed foe | expires!
Strike | for your altars and your fires!
Strike | for the green graves of your sires!
God | and your native land!
For flexibility of the lips, form well the o's and w's.
1
Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind as man's ingratitude.
2
O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful, wonderful! and yet again wonderful, and after that, out of all hooping!
3
Water, water, everywhere,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink.