71
And, nigh, the tall ship 's burning on,
With red, hot spars and crackling flame;
From hull to gallant, nothing 's gone;—
She burns, and yet 's the same!
Her hot, red flame is beating, all the night,
On man and Horse, in their cold, phosphor light.
With red, hot spars and crackling flame;
From hull to gallant, nothing 's gone;—
She burns, and yet 's the same!
Her hot, red flame is beating, all the night,
On man and Horse, in their cold, phosphor light.
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