The Beating Of My Heart

For Who Can Wonder That Man Should Feel A Vague Belief In Tales Of Disembodied Spirits Wandering Through Those Places Which They Once Dearly Affected, When He Himself, Scarcely Less Separated From His Old World Than They, Is For Ever Lingering Upon Past Emotions And Bygone Times, And Hovering, The Ghost Of His Former Self, About The Places And People That Warmed His Heart Of Old?

He Says-him As Was Here Just Now-'when Tom Shut Up The House, Mate, To Go To Rack, The Beds Was Left, All Made, Like As If Somebody Was A-going To Sleep In Every Bed. And If You Was To Walk Through The Bedrooms Now, You'd See The Ragged Mouldy Bedclothes A Heaving And A Heaving Like Seas. And A Heaving And A Heaving With What?' He Says. 'why, With The Rats Under 'em.'

Things Cannot Be Expected To Turn Up Of Themselves. We Must In A Measure Assist To Turn Them Up

The Streets Looked Small, Of Course. The Streets That We Have Only Seen As Children Always Do I Believe When We Go Back To Them

And A Beautiful World We Live In, When It Is Possible, And When Many Other Such Things Are Possible, And Not Only Possible, But Done-- Done, See You!-- Under That Sky There, Every Day.