Something of England will go with him in memory That Ariel summer down to the sea Racing the rattler under galleon skies The halloo from a hill, the cut pillows with steam And apples bright as bells in the shining bower The chalk stream chill and ribbon rill By the wagon in the furrowed lea Through blithe lanes to the free house A seat in the sunset window, and her laugh Rig the dappled canvas, spark and tinder The starstruck sigh of her name And the breath of old gods, green and gold Passed then from that blessed earth On the best of days, and the last

The Radio Times unread, not thinking much at all The kettle clouds the dimming glass, waits for his star to fall