There was music all about us, we were growing quite forgetful We were only singing seamen from the dirt of Londontown. - Alfred Noyes

Descend, descend, Urania, speak To men in their own tongue! Leave not the breaking heart to break Because thine own is strong. This is the law, in dream and deed, That heaven must walk on earth! O, shine upon the humble creed That holds the heavenly birth.

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding — Riding — riding — The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

Like the dawn upon a dream Slowly through the scented gloom Crept once more the ruddy gleam O'er the friendly nursery room. There, before our waking eyes, Large and ghostly, white and dim, Dreamed the Flower that never dies, Opening wide its rosy rim.