This is from ‘Punch’s Day Book’
‘There are those who plan to die
blameless, open-handed, an unwritten letter.
We can’t aspire to that.
We lack the pure compulsion and the nerve.
The orchard’s harvested; the stoves are lit
to burn all winter; the house is steeped
in a musty odour of fruit.
Think how it is
to own nothing, to carry nothing
from one place [...]
