Consequence when we vaunt and suffer, or
If it is not, all echoes are the same
In such eternity. Then tell me, love,
How that should comfort us—or anyone
Dragged half-unnerved out of this worldly place,
Crying to the end ‘I have not finished’.
— Geoffrey Hill, from “Funeral Music,” New and Collected Poems 1952-1992 (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 1994)