FRAGMENT.
Reading edition
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BY ALBERT PIKE.
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We are all mariners on this sea of life;
And they who climb above us up the shrouds,
Have only, in their over-topping place,
Gained a more dangerous station, and foothold
More insecure. The wind that passeth over
And harmeth not the humble crowd below,
Whistles amid the shrouds, and shaketh down
These overweening climbers of the ocean,
Into the great gigantic vase of death.