Mildly it [the wind] kiſt our ſailes, and, freſh, and ſweet, / As, to a ſtomack ſterv'd, whoſe inſides meete, / Meate comes, it came; and ſwole our ſailes, when wee / So joyd, as Sara' her ſwelling joy'd to ſee.
a. 1631 (date written), J[ohn] Donne, “The Storme. To Mr. Christopher Brooke.”, in Poems, […] with Elegies on the Authors Death, London: […] M[iles] F[lesher] for Iohn Marriot, […], published 1633, page 57