Poets' Corner, Westminster Abbey   The cold stone eyes of penmen past now focused on eternity and last things . . . do you still feel the thrill of your words? Do your hearts echo again, somewhere, somehow, forever (or until all books are dust, and all men are deaf and dead), and do you know now what your words whispered hard into your ears, and even though you strained against your chains and toward the light beyond the words, your pens went still, and death evaporated that horde of visions and hopes and dreams, and then my eyes were left to touch your dreams again.     © Michael Fleming London, England December 1982