Child of the Monolith

“We are the Pilgrims, master; we shall go
Always a little further; it may be
Beyond that last blue mountain barred with snow 
Across that angry or that glimmering sea, 

White on a throne or guarded in a cave 
There lies a prophet who can understand
Why men were born: but surely we are brave,
Who take the Golden Road to Samarkand.”
― James Elroy Flecker

“There's the sound of one of them twittering yellow birds do be coming in the spring-time from beyond the sea, and there'll be a fine warmth now in the sun, and a sweetness in the air, the way it'll be a grand thing to be sitting here quiet and easy smelling the things growing up, and budding from the earth.”
― J.M. Synge, The Well of the Saints

“Harry, you know at night
The larks in Castle Alley
Sing from the attic's height
As if the electric light
Were the true sun above a summer valley:
Whistle, don't knock, tonight.

I shall come early, Kate:
And we in Castle Alley
Will sit close out of sight
Alone, and ask no light
Of lamp or sun above a summer valley:
Tonight I can stay late.”
― Edward Thomas, Collected Poems: Edward Thomas

“The setting sun
With yellow radiance lighten'd all the vale;
And as the warriors moved, each polish'd helm,
Corslet or spear, glanced back his gilded beams.
The hill they climbed, and halting at its top,
Of more than mortal size, towering, they seem'd
A host angelic, clad in burning arms.”
― John Home, Douglas: A Tragedy