• Island Life
  • Thoughts on the Sea #14

    Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong […]

  • Island Life
  • Thoughts on the Sea #6

    O for a soft and gentle wind!   I heard a fair one cry; But give to me the snoring breeze   And white waves heaving high; And white waves heaving high, my lads,   The good ship tight and free— The world of waters is our home,   And merry men are we. Allan […]