Never since Drake and Raleigh won Our freedom of the seas, Have sons of Britain dared and done More valiantly than these. - Alfred Noyes

And captains that we thought were dead, And dreamers that we thought were dumb, And voices that we thought were fled, Arise, and call us, and we come; And "search in thine own soul," they cry; "For there, too, lurks thine enemy." Search for the foe in thine own soul, The sloth, the intellectual pride; The trivial jest that veils the goal For which our fathers lived and died; The lawless dreams, the cynic Art, That rend thy nobler self apart.

I long to get away, sometimes, from my own generation. I don't care whether it's into the past, or into the future, so long as it's away from the patter into simple realities again. I hate being a slave to my own age.
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We are so afraid of sentimentality that we're losing the power of human feeling. Our writers today understand all the brutalities and cynicisms; but how many of them understand the simple human affections that hold decent human beings together and make the world worth living in?

Come up, with white and crimson! O, shake your bells and sing; Let the porch bend, the pillars bow, Before our Lord, the Spring!