WE DIE WITH THE DYING
Poem from Little Gidding, the fourth quartet of T S Eliot’s Four Quartets
We die with the dying:
See, they depart, and we go with them.
We are born with the dead:
See, they return, and bring us with them.
The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew tree
Are of equal duration.
Chorus:
And all shall be well
And all manner of things shall be well.
When the tongues of flame are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one.
T S Eliot