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"Helen, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicean barks of Yore,
That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,
The weary, wayworn wanderer bore
To his own native shore."
From "To Helen", by the magnificent Edgar Allan Poe.
It's too hot out to skate, so i picked up the old geetar and played a nice lil tune. Take it upon yourselves to make life out of these notes; in your minds picture crashing waves o'er exploding core, fruitful enclaves and, yes, those ole Nicean Barks of Yore. Enjoy the music!