Mud Unto Mud!--death Eddies Near-- Not Here

Ponder Deep Wisdom, Dark Or Clear, Each Secret Fishy Hope Or Fear. Fish Say, They Have Their Stream And Pond; But Is There Anything Beyond? This Life Cannot Be All, They Swear, For How Unpleasant, If It Were! One May Not Doubt That, Somehow, Good Shall Come Of Water And Of Mud; And, Sure, The Reverent Eye Must See A Purpose In Liquidity.

Hearts At Peace, Under An English Heaven.

Blow Out, You Bugles, Over The Rich Dead! There's None Of These So Lonely And Poor Of Old, But, Dying, Has Made Us Rarer Gifts Than Gold.

War Knows No Power. Safe Shall Be My Going, Secretly Armed Against All Death's Endeavour; Safe Though All Safety's Lost; Safe Where Men Fall; And If These Poor Limbs Die, Safest Of All.

But Somewhere, Beyond Space And Time, Is Wetter Water, Slimier Slime! And There (they Trust) There Swimmeth One Who Swam Ere Rivers Were Begun, Immense Of Fishy Form And Mind, Squamous Omnipotent, And Kind.