Commonplace people dislike tragedy because they dare not suffer and cannot exult.
And may we find when ended is the page, Death but a tavern on our pilgrimage.
Men in a ship are always looking up, and men ashore are usually looking down.
I have seen dawn and sunset on moors and windy hills Coming in solemn beauty like slow old tunes of Spain.
But he has gone, A nation's memory and veneration, Among the radiant, ever venturing on, Somewhere, with morning, as such spirits will.
And he who gives a child a treat Makes joy-bells ring in Heaven's street, And he who gives a child a home Builds palaces in Kingdom come, And she who gives a baby birth Brings Saviour Christ again to Earth.