“Here at our sea-bashed gates she gloats and stands”
THE OSTRICHES: PART III, THAT OLD COLONIC
So like the braised gullet of bleak shame,With plundering lips that glide on branded hands;Here at our sea-bashed gates she gloats and stands,A bronzy woman with a piece, whose flameIs an enfrissoned blighting, and her nameBreeder of Exiles. From her beaked handSpews world-wide hell—come, ...
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