Who shuns offence and holds with neither side, Who dreads the deep and never dares to swim, Who fears to trip and never tries to run, May yet in walk… - John Nichol

All is light
To him that lightly loves.

The Gods are not of Rome or Italy:
They dwell in earth's abyss or with the stars,
Their shrines are where we bring heroic hearts.

Good-night, my love, good-night; Farewell! the breeze is sighing
Along the harbour height; The fleecy clouds are flying Beneath Astarte’s light.
My mariners are crying "In favouring winds away"! And I, my love denying, Must cleave th’ Ægean spray.The song that the sea is singing Is gentle and soft to-night:
The lustre the stars are flinging On the bay is tender and bright;
And bark like a bird is springing And speeding from thy sight:
And a tune in my head is ringing That thrills my heart for flight
Across the waves, soon winging,
Return to thee; and bringing
Treasures for thy delight. Good-night, my love, Good-night.