The living can assist the imagination of the dead...

A man awaits his end<br>Dreading and hoping all;<br>Many times he died$$$<br>Many times rose again.

But he heard high up in the air<br>A piper piping away$$$<br>And never was piping so sad$$$<br>And never was piping so gay.

I hear water lapping with low sound by the shore. <br>...I hear it in the deep heart's core.

Never to have lived is best$$$ ancient writers say;<br>Never to have drawn the breath of life$$$ never to have looked into the eye of day;<br>The second bests a gay good night and quickly turn away.

From man's blood-sodden heart are sprung<br>Those branches of the night and day<br>Where the gaudy moon is hung.<br>What's the meaning of all song?<br>"Let all things pass away."

(I) only write it now because I have grown to believe that there is no dangerous idea$$$ which does not become less dangerous when written out in sincere and careful English.

An aged man is but a paltry thing$$$<br>A tattered coat upon a stick$$$ unless<br>Soul clap its hands and sing$$$ and louder sing<br>For every tatter in its mortal dress.

All changed$$$ changed utterly:<br>A terrible beauty is born.

Hearts with one purpose alone<br>Through summer and winter seem<br>Enchanted to a stone<br>To trouble the living stream.