Classic Poem

Press on, courageous bark! — the wind is fair,
As it should ever be when Love sets sail
Beneath such skies as these, whose glowing air
Quickens our souls, as odors scent the gale.
Soon will the stars be dim, the Moon grow pale,
As with Orion down the dreamy west
She wanders, like a Beauty, proud and frail,
To where her lonely couch waits to be press'd,
A fearful secret in her warm, voluptuous breast.