Page:The Dream, John Masefield, 1922.djvu/41

 For now the walls were as a toppling sea,

Green, with white crest, on which a ship emerging,

Strained, with her topsails whining wrinklingly,

Dark with the glittering sea fires of her surging,

And, now with thundering horses and men urging,

The walls were fields on which men rode in pride,

On horses that tossed firedust in their stride.

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