We shall be judged
So, anyway, so Your garden is most fullgreen
And the manybirds alight on its budding branches
And anyway, the lambs gambol
And the children sing -- Yours perhaps
Or mine: god
And anyway
So anyway: we fall beneath the waves
And hope to be remembered anyway
Anyway; the bluebirds wait over the white cliffs of Dover
So anyway; they to fall.
The grass dies, the moss goes, the chalk chips away
Then below that the rocks grain away
(This is the sound of the earth dying. So nothing new. So, anyway)
You may wait under a tree
Or at the foot of a hill
Anyway