I Hold That When A Person Dies

I Have Seen Dawn And Sunset On Moors And Windy Hills Coming In Solemn Beauty Like Slow Old Tunes Of Spain.

But He Has Gone, A Nation's Memory And Veneration, Among The Radiant, Ever Venturing On, Somewhere, With Morning, As Such Spirits Will.

Most Roads Lead Men Homewards, My Road Leads Me Forth

What Am I, Life? A Thing Of Watery Salt Held In Cohesion By Unresting Cells, Which Work They Know Not Why, Which Never Halt, Myself Unwitting Where Their Master Dwells?

Man Cannot Call The Brimming Instant Back; Time's An Affair Of Instants Spun To Days; If Man Must Make An Instant Gold, Or Black, Let Him, He May; But Time Must Go His Ways. Life May Be Duller For An Instant's Blaze. Life's An Affair Of Instants Spun To Years, Instants Are Only Cause Of All These Tears.