“On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep
Where the foe’s haughty host in dread silence reposes
What is that which the breeze, o’er the towering steep
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning’s first beam
In full glory reflected now shines in the stream’Tis the star-spangled banner! Oh long may it wave
Francis Scott Key
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave”
On the shore
Winding Yarn: The Commonplacery 