But Only Agony, And That Has Ending;

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.

.. . . Would I Were In Grantchester, In Grantchester!

Mud Unto Mud!--death Eddies Near-- Not Here The Appointed End, Not Here! But Somewhere, Beyond Space And Time, Is Wetter Water, Slimier Slime!

Fish Say, They Have Their Stream And Pond; But Is There Anything Beyond?

And I Shall Find Some Girl Perhaps, And A Better One Than You, With Eyes As Wise, But Kindlier, And Lips As Soft, But True, And I Dare Say She Will Do.