The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree
Are of equal duration. A people without history
Is not redeemed from time, for history is a pattern 
Of timeless moments. So, while the light fails 
On a winter’s afternoon, in a secluded chapel 
History is now and England. 

With the drawing of this Love and the voice of this Calling

In this moment is our being, in this moment we become
In this word our meaning and expression of meaning
Croaking or singing, softly or boldly we become
As the body breaks and the blood cools
This precise word is needed, fulfilled in being
Placed not here, not there, but now and everywhere.

In this choosing meaning is made and being fulfilled.