His Face Was Filled With Broken Commandments.

But He Has Gone, A Nation's Memory And Veneration, Among The Radiant, Ever Venturing On, Somewhere, With Morning, As Such Spirits Will.

I Have Seen Flowers Come In Stony Places And Kind Things Done By Men With Ugly Faces, And The Gold Cup Won By The Worst Horse At The Races, So I Trust, Too.

In The Dark Room Where I Began My Mother's Life Made Me A Man. Through All The Months Of Human Birth Her Beauty Fed My Common Earth. I Cannot See, Nor Breathe, Nor Stir, But Through The Death Of Some Of Her.

There Are Few Earthly Things More Beautiful Than A University A Place Where Those Who Hate Ignorance May Strive To Know, Where Those Who Perceive Truth May Strive To Make Others See.

It's A Warm Wind, The West Wind, Full Of Birds' Cries; I Never Hear The West Wind But Tears Are In My Eyes. For It Comes From The West Lands, The Old Brown Hills, And April's In The West Wind, And Daffodils.