I am the family face; Flesh perishes, I live on, Projecting trait and trace Through time to times anon, And leaping from place to place Over oblivion.

Only a man harrowing clods In a slow silent walk With an old horse that stumbles and nods Half asleep as they stalk. Only thin smoke without flame From the hea…

Ah, no; the years, the years; Down their carved names the raindrop plows.

That night your great guns, unawares, Shook all our coffins as we lay, And broke the chancel window-squares, We thought it was the Judgement Day.

I am. I was. I am not. I never am.

'It was the family tradition. I wanted to live up to the name-McNair.'

'When I go let it be like James Dean, I don't want to die slow.'