 | Poems by Jean Ingelow |  |
‘There, fisherman,’ quoth I, ‘he showed his wit,
Your mate; he marked the sound of savage war—
Gunpowder, groans, hot-shot, and bursting shells,
And “murderous messages” delivered by
Spent balls that break the heads of dreaming men.’
Your mate; he marked the sound of savage war—
Gunpowder, groans, hot-shot, and bursting shells,
And “murderous messages” delivered by
Spent balls that break the heads of dreaming men.’
| Poems by Jean Ingelow | |