The poem
When night stirred at sea, An the fire brought a crowd in They say that her beauty Was music in mouth And few in the candlelight Thought her too proud, For the house of the planter Is known by the trees.
Men that had seen her Drank deep and were silent, The women were speaking Wherever she went -- As a bell that is rung Or a wonder told shyly And O she was the Sunday In every week.
'and oh she was the sunday in every week'. what a compliment. one of my favourite lines of poetry. genius