Some burn damp faggots, others may consume The entire combustible world in one small room As though dried straw, and if we turn about The bare chimney is gone black out Because the work had finished in that flare. Soldier, scholar, horseman, he, As 'twere all life's epitome. What made us dream that he could comb grey hair?

Unwearied still, lover by lover, They paddle in the cold Companionable streams or climb the air; Their hearts have not grown old.

I had thought, seeing how bitter is that wind That shakes the shutter, to have brought to mind All those that manhood tried, or childhood loved Or boyish intel…

The trees are in their autumn beauty, The woodland paths are dry, Under the October twilight the water Mirrors a still sky.

Estas que fueron pompa y alegria despertando al albor de la manana, a la tarde seran lastima vana durmiendo en brazos de la noche fria.

Films and gramophone records, music, books and buildings show clearly how vigorously a man's life and work go on after his death, whether we feel it or not, wh…

My troubles are many They're deep as a well I swear there ain't no Heaven And I pray there ain't no hell But I'll never know by living only my dying will tell.…