Victor was a little baby,
Into this world he came;
His father took him on his knee an
'Don’t dishonour the family name.'
Victor looked up at his father

Time can say nothing but I told y
Time only knows the price we have
If I could tell you, I would let
If we should weep when clowns put
If we should stumble when musician

Over the heather the wet wind blow
I’ve lice in my tunic and a cold i
The rain comes pattering out of th
I’m a Wall soldier, I don’t know
The mist creeps over the hard grey

Driver drive faster and make a goo
Down the Springfield Line under t
Fly like an aeroplane, don’t pull
Till you brake for Grand Central
For there in the middle of the wai

Poet, oracle and wit
Like unsuccessful anglers by
Th ponds of apperception sit,
Baiting with the wrong request
The vectors of their interest;

As the poets have mournfully sung,
Death takes the innocent young,
The rolling-in-money,
The screamingly-funny,
And those who are very well hung.

The underground roads
Are, as the dead prefer them,
Always tortuous.
. . .
When he looked the cave in the eye

Look, stranger, on this island now
The leaping light for your delight
Stand stable here
And silent be,
That through the channels of the e

“O who can ever gaze his fill,”
Farmer and fisherman say,
“On native shore and local hill,
Grudge aching limb or callus on th
Father, grandfather stood upon thi

He was found by the Bureau of Sta
One against whom there was no offi
And all the reports on his conduct
That, in the modern sense of an ol
saint,