What can I but enumerate old themes?

Nothing but stillness can remain when hearts are full Of their own sweetness, bodies of their loveliness.

Happiness is neither virtue nor pleasure nor this thing nor that but simply growth, We are happy when we are growing.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping...I hear it in the deep heart's core.

That is no country for old men. The young In one another's arms, birds in the trees - Those dying generations-at their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unaging intellect.

Somewhere beyond the curtain Of distorting days Lives that lonely thing That shone before these eyes Targeted, trod like Spring.

Everything in nature is resurrection.