Yourself with your good arms, in lusty stroke
To the shore.
Tempest.
41. Lady.—Beside the dimness of the glimmering sea,
with a dear friend to linger,
Beneath the gleams of the silver stars.
Shelley.
42. To pluck some way-side flower,
And press it in the choicest nook
Of a much-loved and oft-read book.