I built my soul a lordly pleasure-house, Wherein at ease for aye to dwell - Alfred Tennyson

"Then some one said, "We will return no more";
And all at once they sang, "Our island home
Is far beyond the wave; we will no longer roam.

Frown not, old ghosts, if I be one of those
Who make you utter things you did not say,
And mould you all awry and mar your work;
For whatsoever knows us truly knows
That none can truly write his single day,
And none can write it for him upon earth.

Death's truer name Is "Onward," no discordance in the roll And march of that Eternal Harmony Whereto the world beats time.