A Kiss Makes The Heart Young Again

If I Should Die, Think Only This Of Me: That There's Some Corner Of A Foreign Field That Is Forever England. There Shall Be In That Rich Earth A Richer Dust Concealed; A Dust Whom England Bore, Shaped, Made Aware, Gave, Once, Her Flowers To Love, Her Ways To Roam, A Body Of England's, Breathing English Air, Washed By The Rivers, Blest By Suns Of Home.

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.

I Know What Things Are Good: Friendship And Work And Conversation. These I Shall Have.

And In That Heaven Of All Their Wish, There Shall Be No More Land, Say Fish

Stands The Church Clock At Ten To Three? And Is There Honey Still For Tea?