And There Shall Be For Thee All

Turn The Key Deftly In The Oiled Wards, And Seal The Hushed Casket Of My Soul.

Here Lies One Whose Name Was Writ In Water.

Give Me Books, Fruit, French Wine And Fine Weather And A Little Music Out Of Doors, Played By Someone I Do Not Know. I Admire Lolling On A Lawn By A Water-lilied Pond To Eat White Currants And See Goldfish: And Go To The Fair In The Evening If I'm Good. There Is Not Hope For That -one Is Sure To Get Into Some Mess Before Evening.

Then Felt I Like Some Watcher Of The Skies When A New Planet Swims Into His Ken.

I Want A Brighter Word Than Bright