'The Horses of Neptune' (Walter Crane, 1982)
Twelve Brides they ride
potent to cries of Neptune.
Be not afraid of the waves
that spur the whipping veil.
With tempest they shall spill
onto your darkened lands.
Their glorious tumult shall
cleanse your ancient stagnancy.
Breathe in spirited worlds
to hearten the forlorn.
Behold, peerless beauties glide
pure to your savage shore.
Release a heart to kiss fertility,
rouse to herald heavens fair chaste.
For the salts of March have come
to lick your deepest wounds.
