Chapter 250 of 1964 · 55 words · ~1 min read

XII.

I can't but say it is an awkward sight To see one's native land receding through The growing waters; it unmans one quite, Especially when life is rather new: I recollect Great Britain's coast looks white,[99] But almost every other country's blue, When gazing on them, mystified by distance, We enter on our nautical existence.