The past and future / Are conquered, and reconciled.

In a mind charged with an eager purpose and an unfinished vindictiveness, there is no room for new feelings.

But it seems that something has happened that has never happened before: though we know not just when, or why, or how, or where.

A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many, I had not thought death had undone so many.

History may be servitude. History may be freedom. See, now they vanish. The faces and places, with the self which, as it could, loved them, to become renewed, transfigured, in another pattern.

Words strain, Crack and sometimes break, under the burden, Under the tension, slip, slide, perish, Decay with imprecision, will not stay in place, Will not stay still.

A tradition without intelligence is not worth having.