We Frolic While 'tis May.

Some Village Hampden, That With Dauntless Breast The Little Tyrant Of His Fields Withstood, Some Mute Inglorious Milton Here May Rest, Some Cromwell Guiltless Of His Country's Blood.

Chill Penury Repress'd Their Noble Rage, And Froze The Genial Current Of The Soul.

England, So Long Mistress Of The Sea, Where Winds And Waves Confess Her Sovereignty, Her Ancient Triumphs Yet On High Shall Bear And Reign The Sovereign Of The Conquered Air.

Ye Towers Of Julius, London's Lasting Shame, With Many A Foul And Midnight Murder Fed.

Poetry Is Thoughts That Breathe, And Words That Burn.