head

Nodding their heads before her goes The merry minstrelsy. 🔊

With sloping masts and dipping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the shadow of his foe, And forward bends his head, 🔊

Nor dim nor red, like God's own head, The glorious Sun uprist: 🔊

It flung the blood into my head, And I fell down in a swound. 🔊

And having once turned round walks on, And turns no more his head; 🔊

My head was turned perforce away And I saw a boat appear. 🔊

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