What living occasion can, Be just to the absent? - W. H. Auden

You owe it to all of us to get on with what you're good at.

And the poor in their fireless lodgings, dropping the sheets Of the evening paper: "Our day is our loss, O show us History the operator, the Organiser, Time the refreshing river." <p> And the nations combine each cry, invoking the life That shapes the individual belly and orders The private nocturnal terror: "Did you not found the city state of the sponge,<p>"Raise the vast military empires of the shark And the tiger, establish the robin's plucky canton? Intervene. Descend as a dove or A furious papa or a mild engineer, but descend."

Like love we don't know where or why
Like love we cant compel or fly
Like Love we often weep
Like Love we seldom keep