The Place Is Very Well And Quiet

On The Ear Drops The Light Drip Of The Suspended Oar.

I Have A Passion For The Name Of "mary," For Once It Was A Magic Sound To Me, And Still It Half Calls Up The Realms Of Fairy, Where I Beheld What Never Was To Be.

We Of The Craft Are All Crazy.

The Truly Brave Are Soft Of Heart And Eyes, And Feel For What Their Duty Bids Them Do.

So Bright The Tear In Beauty's Eye, Love Half Regrets To Kiss It Dry.