# *Going Without Saying* **i.m. Joe Flynn** It is a great pity we don’t know When the dead are going to die So that, over a last companionable Drink, we could tell them How much we liked them. Happy the man who, dying, can Place his hand on his heart and say: "At least I didn’t neglect to tell The thrush how beautifully she sings." — [[Bernard O'Donoghue]]