For last year's words belong to last year's language And next year's words await another voice. - T. S. Eliot

An election is coming. Universal peace is declared and the foxes have a sincere interest in prolonging the lives of the poultry.

We dwell with satisfaction upon the poet's difference from his predecessors, especially his immediate predecessors; we endeavour to find something that can be isolated in order to be enjoyed. Whereas if we approach a poet without this prejudice we shall often find that not only the best, but the most individual parts of his work may be those in which the dead poets, his ancestors, assert their immortality most vigorously. And I do not mean the impressionable period of adolescence, but the period of full maturity.

Only by acceptance of the past, can you alter it