Romance gathers round an old story like lichen on an old branch. And the story of Martin Pippin in the Apple Orchard is so old now — some say a year … - Eleanor Farjeon

'In love there are no penalties and no payments, and what is given is indistinguishable from what is received.' And he bent his head and kissed her long and deeply, and in that kiss neither knew themselves, or even each other, but something beyond all consciousness that was both of them.

His tail was a fountain. His nostrils were caves. His mane and his forelock Were musical waves. He neighed like a trumpet. He cooed like a dove. He was stronger than terror And swifter than love.

My harp and I a-wandering Went over Snowdon Mountain, From Anglesey to Swansea Bay It sang like any fountain.