As Daniel, bird-alone, in that far land, <br />Kneeling in fervent prayer, with heart-sick eyes <br />Turned thro' the casement toward the westering skies; <br />Or as untamed Elijah, that red brand <br />Among the starry prophets; or that band <br />And company of Faithful sanctities <br />Who in all times, when persecutions rise, <br />Cherish forgotten creeds with fostering hand: <br />Such do ye seem to me, light-hearted crew, <br />O turned to friendly arts with all your will, <br />That keep a little chapel sacred still, <br />One rood of Holy-land in this bleak earth <br />Sequestered still (our homage surely due!) <br />To the twin Gods of mirthful wine and mirth.<br /><br />Robert Louis Stevenson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-viii-4/
