Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney sweepers, come to dust.
And tears came to his eyes, and he was filled with love and appreciation for these good kinsfolk of his who found such wealth in their little happiness and were so easily consoled in their little sorrows. And in the music it seemed that he and his mother could meet, had found a language which both could understand, a song to unite passionate acceptance and passionate denial in the peace of the soul.
George said he never did think much of classical music, and asked Elsie to sing his favorite song: “Poppyland.”
That done, they joined hands and sang “For Auld Lang Syne.”
His mother came to see René in his bed. She said:
“You won’t come again.”
“How do you know that?”
“I feel it. You’ve been very good and you have made me very happy.”