As Long As I Live

For Beauty With Sorrow Is A Burden Hard To Be Borne: The Evening Light On The Foam, And The Swans, There; That Music, Remote, Forlorn.

What A Haunting, Inescapable Riddle Life Was.

Dobbin At Manger Pulls His Hay: Gone Is Another Summer's Day.

When I Lie Where Shades Of Darkness Shall No More Assail Mine Eyes.

After All, What Is Every Man? A Horde Of Ghosts - Like A Chinese Nest Of Boxes - Oaks That Were Acorns That Were Oaks. Death Lies Behind Us, Not In Front - In Our Ancestors, Back And Back Until.