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 | Old Salt Kossabone
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| Far back, related on my mother's side, |
| Old Salt Kossabone, I'll tell you how he died: |
| (Had been a sailor all his life — was nearly 90 — lived with his married grandchild, Jenny; |
| House on a hill, with view of bay at hand, and distant cape, and stretch to open sea;) |
| 5 | The last of afternoons, the evening hours, for many a year his regular custom, |
| In his great arm chair by the window seated, |
| (Sometimes, indeed, through half the day,) |
| Watching the coming, going of the vessels, he mutters to himself — And now the close of all: |
| One struggling outbound brig, one day, baffled for long — cross-tides and much wrong going, |
| 10 | At last at nightfall strikes the breeze aright, her whole luck veering, |
| And swiftly bending round the cape, the darkness proudly entering, cleaving, as he watches, |
| "She's free — she's on her destination" — these the last words — when Jenny came, he sat |
| there dead, |
| Dutch Kossabone, Old Salt, related on my mother's side, far back. |
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