Our poet's singing lips are dumb: This his last gift, to us has brought The pain pressed vintage of his thought His life of song, his life of pain, A… - Flora Thompson

And so with us, she thought. We come, we go, and, as individuals, we are forgotten. But the stream of human life goes on, ever changing, but ever the same, and as the stream is fed by well-springs hoarded by Nature so the stream of humanity is fed by the store of accumulated wisdom and effort and hard-won experience of past generations.

and so the shadows ripple on
until it's time to part

There was no Victoria in the school ... That great name was sacred to the Queen and was not copied by her subjects to the extent imagined by period novelists of today. <small>— (ch. 11, School)</small>