Life, A Beauty Chased By Tragic Laughter.

Quinquireme Of Nineveh From Distant Ophir, Rowing Home To Haven In Sunny Palestine, With A Cargo Of Ivory, And Apes And Peacocks, Sandalwood, Cedarwood, And Sweet White Wine.

It's A Warm Wind, The West Wind, Full Of Birds' Cries; I Never Hear The West Wind But Tears Are In My Eyes. For It Comes From The West Lands, The Old Brown Hills, And April's In The West Wind, And Daffodils.

My Road Leads Me Seawards To The White Dipping Sails.

I Have Seen Dawn And Sunset On Moors And Windy Hills Coming In Solemn Beauty Like Slow Old Tunes Of Spain.

There Are Few Earthly Things More Beautiful Than A University A Place Where Those Who Hate Ignorance May Strive To Know, Where Those Who Perceive Truth May Strive To Make Others See.