Stands the Church clock at ten to three? And is there honey still for tea?

There's little comfort in the wise

I know what things are good: friendship and work and conversation. These I shall have.

Oh! death will find me long before I tire of watching you.

For Cambridge people rarely smile, Being urban, squat, and packed with guile.

Store up reservoirs of calm and content and draw on them at later moments when the source isn't there, but the need is very great.

Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead! There's none of these so lonely and poor of old, But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold.