So touch my dying lip: so bridge that deep: So pledge my waking from the gift of sleep, And, sacramental, raise me the Divine: Strong brother in God and last companion, Wine.

When the ephemeral vision's lure is past All, all, must face their Passion at the last.

An institute run with such knavish imbecility that if it were not the work of God it would not last a fortnight.

By thee do seers the inward light discern; By thee the statue lives, the Gods return.

I held his hand all the time the priest was saying extreme unction.

His death which happened in his berth, At forty-odd befell: They went and told the sexton, and The sexton tolled the bell.

The seasons come and the seasons go, the summer fruit and the winter snow, but here we are, and here we stay - until the time to go away. Ah, they say, there's…