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T S Eliot – Little Gidding

And as I fixed upon the down turned face,
That pointed scrutiny with which we challenge
The first met stranger in the waning dusk,
I caught the sudden look of some dead master
Whom I had known, forgotten, half recalled
Both one and many; in the brown baked features
The eyes of a familiar compound ghost
Both intimate and unidentifiable
So I assumed a double part and cried
And heard another's voice cry 'What are you here?'
Although we were not
I was still the same.
Knowing myself yet being someone other -
And he a face still forming; yet the words sufficed
To compel the recognition they preceded
….
We trod the pavement in a dead patrol
I said 'The wonder that I feel is easy,
Yet ease is cause of wonder. Therefore speak;
I may not comprehend may not remember
And he 'I am not eager to rehearse
My thought and theory which you have forgotten
These things have served their purpose; let them be

For last year's words belong to last year's language
And next year's words await another voice