All that matters is what you love
and what you love is who you are
and who you are is where you will be
when death takes you across the river.
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm ...