Linque tuas sedes alienaque litora quaere,

o juvenis: major rerum tibi nascitur ordo.

Ne succumbe malis: te noverit ultimus Hister,

Te Boreas gelidus securaque regna Canopi,

quique renascentem Phoebum cernuntque cadentem

major in externas fit qui descendit harenas.

Titus Petronius Arbiter

I struck the board and cry’d ‘No more;

    I will abroad.’

What, shall I ever sigh and pine?

My life and lines are free; free as the road,

Loose as the wind.

George Herbert

For now the time of gifts is gone—

O boys that grow, O snows that melt,

O bathos that the years must fill—

Here is dull earth to build upon

Undecorated; we have reached

Twelfth Night or what you will...you will.

Louis MacNeice[1]