Not murmuring, "Bless!"
What a glory illumined their features when snapped by the popular Press!
Full glad is the face of the earth when the vineyards are laden;
Loud laughs with innumerous laughter in wreath upon wreath
The ocean at Blackpool or Margate; most blithely the maiden
Unfastens the sheath
Of her mouth like the bloom of a musk rose, when Fangol has furbished her teeth;
So fair was the smile of the sea-kings; so sweet was the look on
The faces of Hezlet and Ouimet and most of their peers
When they passed from the contest, a smile with a sort of a hook on,