But you have gone now, all of you that were so beautiful when you were quick with life. Yet not gone, for you are still a living truth inside my mind. So how are you dead, my brothers and sisters, and all of you , when you live with me as surely as I live with myself.

O, Voice of Man, organ of most lovely might.

There is no fence or hedge round time that has gone. You can go back and have what you like if you remember it well enough.

How green was my valley then, and the valley of them that have gone.

I saw my father as a man, and not, as a man who was my father.

Everywhere was singing, all over the house was singing, and outside the house was alive with singing, and the very air was song.

Glorious is the Voice of Man, and sweet is the music of the harp.