A rowboat moored among lily pads,
Stone with the whorl of ammonites in it,
Brickwork crusted with yellow lichen,
Moss with the gloss of green, green velvet,
Sun at the level of August evenings.
All my friends were there.
Everything else quite finished,
Everything else put by and done with,
Everything else a just a dream to be smiled at.
All my friends were there.