The English Winter - Ending

With Flowing Tail And Flying Mane, Wide Nostrils Never Stretched By Pain, Mouth Bloodless To Bit Or Rein, And Feet That Iron Never Shod, And Flanks Unscar'd By Spur Or Rod, A Thousand Horses - The Wild - The Free - Like Waves That Follow O'er The Sea, Came Thickly Thundering On.

I See Before Me The Gladiator Lie.

Man, Being Reasonable, Must Get Drunk; The Best Of Life Is But Intoxication.

By Heaven! It Is A Splendid Sight To See For One Who Hath No Friend, No Brother There.

They Truly Mourn, That Mourn Without A Witness.