And I rose In rainy autumn And walked abroad in a shower of all my days.
Nothing grows in our garden, only washing. And babies.
Though lovers be lost love shall not.
Cold beer is bottled God.
Though they go mad they shall be sane, though they sink through the sea they shall rise again; though lovers be lost love shall not; and death shall have no dominion.
Rhianon, he said, hold my hand, Rhianon. She did not hear him, but stood over his bed and fixed him with an unbroken sorrow. Hold my hand, he said, and then: why are your putting the sheet over my face?