Under the olive trees, from the ground Grows this flower, which is a wound. It is easier to ignore Than the heroes' sunset fire Of death plunged in t… - Stephen Spender

Unless, governor, teacher, inspector, visitor, This map becomes their window and these windows That shut upon their lives like catacombs, Break O break open 'till they break the town And show the children green fields and make their world Run azure on gold sands and let their tongues Run naked into books, the white and green leaves open History is theirs whose language is the sun.

Him I delight in accepts joy as joy;
He is richened by sorrow as a river by its bends

They think how one life hums, revolves and toils, One cog in a golden singing hive...