Fear is a cloak which old men huddle about their love, as if to keep it warm.
I'll teach my boy the sweetest things; I'll teach him how the owlet sings.
By happy chance we saw A twofold image: on a grassy bank A snow-white ram, and in the crystal flood Another and the same!
Who, doomed to go in company with Pain And Fear and Bloodshed,-miserable train!- Turns his necessity to glorious gain.
Oh for a single hour of that Dundee Who on that day the word of onset gave!
The ocean is a mighty harmonist.