Goddess of song, teach me the story of a hero.
Goddess-nurse of the young, give ear to my prayer, and grant that this woman may reject the love-embraces of youth and dote on grey-haired old men whose powers are dulled, but whose hearts still desire.
The journey is the thing.
Who ne'er knew salt, or heard the billows roar.
For too much rest becomes a pain.
down from his brow she ran his curls like thick hyacinth clusters full of blooms