And at our feet unbroken lay The glass that had whirled us thither away: And in the grass, among the flowers We sat and wished all sorts of things: O… - Alfred Noyes

And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding — Riding — riding — A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard;
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

Ye that follow the vision Of the world's weal afar, Have ye met with derision And the red laugh of war; Yet the thunder shall not hurt you, Nor the battle-storms dismay; Tho' the sun in heaven desert you, "Love will find out the way."

They wouldn't mourn for Peterkin, merry little Peterkin. Put away your muskets, lay aside the drum, Hang it by the wooden sword we made for little Peterkin!