NOTHING WILL DIE
Tennyson
‘When will the stream be aweary of flowing under my eye?
When will the wind be aweary of blowing over the sky?
When will the heart be aweary of beating?
And nature die?
Never, oh! Never, nothing will die:
The stream flows
The wind blows.
The cloud fleets
The heart beats
Nothing will die.
Nothing was born.
Nothing will die.
All things will change’.