When I Was Quite A Boy I

Not Till The Fire Is Dying In The Grate, Look We For Any Kinship With The Stars. Oh, Wisdom Never Comes When It Is Gold, And The Great Price We Paid For It Full Worth: We Have It Only When We Are Half Earth. Little Avails That Coinage To The Old!

That Rarest Gift To Beauty, Common Sense!

See Ye Not, Courtesy Is The True Alchemy, Turning To Gold All It Touches And Tries?

A Human Act Once Set In Motion Flows On Forever To The Great Account. Our Deathlessness Is In What We Do, Not In What We Are.

For Singing Till His Heaven Fills, 'tis Love Of Earth That He Instills, And Ever Winging Up And Up, Our Valley Is His Golden Cup, And He The Wine Which Over Flows To Lift Us With Him As He Goes.