Breathless, We Flung Us On

I Thought When Love For You Died, I Should Die. It's Dead. Alone, Most Strangely, I Live On.

There's Little Comfort In The Wise

I Shall Desire And I Shall Find The Best Of My Desires; The Autumn Road, The Mellow Wind That Soothes The Darkening Shires. And Laughter, And Inn-fires.

In Your Arms Was Still Delight, Quiet As A Street At Night; And Thoughts Of You, I Do Remember, Were Green Leaves In A Darkened Chamber, Were Dark Clouds In A Moonless Sky.

It's All A Terrible Tragedy. And Yet, In It's Details, It's Great Fun. And - Apart From The Tragedy - I've Never Felt Happier Or Better In My Life Than In Those Days In Belgium.