OFF.
Reading edition
The wind is where we want it with a hornpipe in its heels, The harbor-bar is spouting like a whale; There’s the flash and splash of morning spun behind a dozen keels, And a nixie-band a-whistling in the sail. There’s a rolling path of glory for a hundred leagues or more, With a streak of tumbling shadows breaking through; O these foaming hills of wonder, where the siren trumpets roar, While the seraphs are a-singing in the blue! O the huddle of the waters, O the babble of the brine, And the swing and tip and dip that sets you free; With this sad old world behind us, and the top-sail dripping wine, O the deep true-hearted solace of the sea!