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ER side is in the water,
 * Her keel is in the sand,

And her bowsprit rests on the low gray rock
 * That bounds the sea and land.

Her deck is without a mast,
 * And sand and shells are there,

And the teeth of decay are gnawing her planks,
 * In the sun and the sultry air.

No more on the river’s bosom,
 * When sky and wave are calm,

And the clouds are in summer quietness
 * And the cool night-breath is balm,

Will she glide in the swan-like stillness
 * Of the moon in the blue above,