CHARADE.
Reading edition
FIRST.
I am rocked in the arms of the sea, Or tossed on the flowing main; Then fold my white wings in some peaceful bay, And am bound to the earth with a chain.
SECOND.
There's a fruit with its hue of gold From the land of the tropical sun; I make it a cooling draught to hold To the lips of the thirsty one.
WHOLE.
With the tread of many feet, And the changeless roll of the drum, With a deadly volley my foe to greet, Mid the flash of steel, I come.
"WILL IT RING, MAMMA, IF I PULL?"
