When will the stream be aweary of flowing         Under my eye? When will the wind be aweary of blowing         Over the sky? When will the clouds be aweary of fleeting? When will the heart be aweary of beating?         And nature die? Never, oh? never, nothing will die;         The stream flows,         The wind blows,         The cloud fleets,         The heart beats,           Nothing will die.
Nothing will die;
The world was never made; Nothing will Die by Alfred Lord Tennyson |