And slowly answered Arthur from the barge:
The old order changeth, yielding place to new,
And God fulfils Himself in many ways,
Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.
Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me?
I have lived my life, and that which I have done
May He within Himself make pure! but thou,
If thou shouldst never see my face again,
Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer
Than this world dreams of.
“Forward, into the fog!”
Could Santa save the day?
How though Rudolph knew not
His nose had glowed red.
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and fly.
Into the foggy evening
Rode the nine reindeer.