Are full to the garret; then they’ll shut their gates,
To keep the living out, and perhaps leave
A dead or two between both kingdoms.
T. L. Beddoes (Death’s Jest-Book, III, 3).
This is one of the queer fancies in a curious poem.
Every ship is a romantic object, except that we sail in. Embark and the romance quits our vessel, and hangs on every other sail in the horizon.
Emerson (Essay on Experience).