 | Poems by Jean Ingelow |  |
‘Surely, Sir,’ quoth he,
Took off his hat, and stroked his old white head
And wrinkled face; then sitting by us said,
As one that utters with a quiet mind
Unchallenged truth—‘'T is lucky for the boats.’
Took off his hat, and stroked his old white head
And wrinkled face; then sitting by us said,
As one that utters with a quiet mind
Unchallenged truth—‘'T is lucky for the boats.’
| Poems by Jean Ingelow | |