In Memoriam A.H.H. I hold it true, whate’er befall; I feel it, when I sorrow most; ‘Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.

In this hi-tech world of ours, In the heart’s mysterious isle, I seek the thing of nature’s grace, The poetry of every mile.

All things go on: Time’s vagrant art, Flows on and on, through endless space; Each sigh, each heart, each sending heart In nature’s care must find its place.

And when the day is done and gone, And night enfolds what day has fled, I walk the paths where you have gone, And listen where your heart has bled.

For sweetly in the woods I hear The echo of your loss resound; And though, to lose is hard, my dear, In all that pain, a beauty’s found.

• Alfred Lord Tennyson