And In My Flower-beds, I Think, Smile

These Laid The World Away; Poured Out The Red Sweet Wine Of Youth; Gave Up The Years To Be Of Work And Joy, And That Unhoped Serene, That Men Call Age; And Those Who Would Have Been, Their Sons, They Gave, Their Immortality.

Infinite Hungers Leap No More I In The Chance Swaying Of Your Dress; And Love Has Changed To Kindliness.

I Know What Things Are Good: Friendship And Work And Conversation. These I Shall Have.

If I Should Die, Think Only This Of Me: That There's Some Corner Of A Foreign Field That Is For Ever England.

Fish Say, They Have Their Stream And Pond; But Is There Anything Beyond?