With white tails smoking free, Long streaming manes, and arching necks, they show Their kinship to their sisters of the sea - And forward hurl their thunderbolts of snow. Still out of hardships bred, Spirits of power and beauty and delight Have ever on such frugal pastures fed And loved to course with tempests through the night.

We shall not meet again: over the wave Our ways divide, and yours is straight and endless - But mine is short and crooked to the grave: Yet what of these dark …

Of all the clever people round me here I most delight in Me - Mine is the only voice I care to hear, And mine the only face I like to see.

The timeless, surly patience of the serf That moves the nearest to the naked earth And ploughs down palaces, and thrones, and towers.

A rosebud set with little wilful thorns, And sweet as English air could make her, she.

Hunting hawks do not belong in cages, no matter how much a man covets their grace, no matter how golden the bars. They are far more beautiful soaring free. Hea…

A wet sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast, And fills the white and rustling sail, And bends the gallant mast. And bends the gallant mast, my boys…