Life is (I think) a blunder and a shame. - William Ernest Henley

My songs were once of the sunrise:
They shouted it over the bar;
First-footing the dawns, they flourished,
And flamed with the morning star. My songs are now of the sunset:
Their brows are touched with light,
But their feet are lost in the shadows
And wet with the dews of night.

From the winter’s gray despair,
From the summer’s golden languor,
Death, the lover of Life,
Frees us for ever.

What have I done for you,
England, my England?
What is there I would not do,
England, my own?