I Have Need To Busy My Heart

Yet, Behind The Night, Waits For The Great Unborn, Somewhere Afar, Some White Tremendous Daybreak.

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.

All The Little Emptiness Of Love!

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.