Store Up Reservoirs Of Calm And Content

In Your Arms Was Still Delight, Quiet As A Street At Night; And Thoughts Of You, I Do Remember, Were Green Leaves In A Darkened Chamber, Were Dark Clouds In A Moonless Sky.

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.

But The Best I've Known Stays Here, And Changes, Breaks, Grows Old, Is Blown About The Winds Of The World, And Fades From Brains Of Living Men, And Dies.

Stands The Church Clock At Ten To Three? And Is There Honey Still For Tea?

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