I do not know much about gods;but I think that the river is a strong brown god-sullen, untamed and intractable . . . - T. S. Eliot

The Pekes and the Pollicles, everyone knows,
Are proud and implacable, passionate foes;
It is always the same, wherever one goes.
And the Pugs and the Poms, although most people say
that they do not like fighting, will often display
Every symptom of wanting to join in the fray.
And they
Bark bark bark bark bark bark
Until you can hear them all over the park.

Where is the Life we lost in living?

Ash on an old man's sleeve,
Is all the ash the burnt roses leave.
Dust in the air suspended
Marks the place where a story ended,
Dust in breathed was a house-
The wall, the wainscot and the mouse.
The death of hope and despair,
This is the death of air.