The Luck Will Alter And The Star

So Death Obscures Your Gentle Form, So Memory Strives To Make The Darkness Bright; And, In That Heap Of Rocks, Your Body Lies, Part Of The Island Till The Planet Ends, My Gentle Comrade, Beautiful And Wise, Part Of This Crag This Bitter Surge Offends, While I, Who Pass, A Little Obscure Thing, War With This Force, And Breathe, And Am Its King.

Love Is A Flame To Set The Will On Fire

So Shall I Fight, So Shall I Tread, In This Long War Beneath The Stars; So Shall A Glory Wreathe My Head, So Shall I Faint And Show The Scars, Until This Case, This Clogging Mould, Be Smithied All To Kingly Gold.

My Road Leads Me Seawards To The White Dipping Sails.

Once In A Century A Man May Be Ruined Or Made Insufferable By Praise. But Surely Once In A Minute Something Generous Dies For Want Of It.