by W. Wordsworth. . I travelled among unknown men,. In lands beyond the sea;. Nor, England did I know till then. What love I bore to thee.. . 'Tis past, that melancholy dream!.
Build your coffin of balsa wood. Spend all that you earn. When you go you are gone for good. Never to return. Always to thine own self be true. Not to fools like me.