The Echo of Elegance — Discovering the Soul of a Gallery Sale
Tucked within the gentle historical folds of Maryland, where the rhythm of the old world persists in cobblestone streets and weathered storefronts, the Alex Cooper Gallery Sale rises as a beacon to those who seek more than just sparkle. It is not simply a jewelry auction—it is a meditation on time, intention, and memory. This is a place where diamonds are not merely weighed by carat, but by the stories they might tell; where gold is valued not just for purity, but for the fingerprints of the past it carries.
The sale features over 200 carefully selected lots, each with a life and lineage of its own. Some were crafted in eras when candlelight was the norm and mourning was ritualized through ornament. Others are mid-century marvels, whispering tales from an age of reinvention and rebellion. There are rough diamonds—still holding the primal force of geological time—and their faceted cousins, shaped by the jeweler’s discipline and the dream of beauty. Even uncut, these stones speak in a vocabulary more ancient than civilization. Their presence at the sale is a poetic reminder that nature itself is a jeweler, and humans merely interpreters of its slow, dazzling art.
When collectors walk through the exhibition or browse the digital catalog, they are not simply shopping. They are decoding a visual archive of sentiment, style, and symbolic gesture. This is jewelry not as decoration but as document. A love letter etched in garnet. A sigh captured in pearl. A promise sealed in gold.
Jewels as Memory — When Ornament Becomes Testament
Within this sale, particular pieces rise above ornament and move into the realm of remembrance. Lot 153 is a gentle example. It includes a Victorian seed pearl necklace, two matching bracelets, and a bar pin—all mourning pieces, delicate yet steadfast. They are the kind of jewelry worn not for celebration, but for reverence. Not for vanity, but for remembrance. These items don’t scream for attention; they murmur with feeling. Worn likely by a woman in the late 19th century, they represent a grief that was not hidden, but woven into daily attire.
Seed pearls, so frequently used in mourning jewelry, have a fragile beauty that mimics tears. Their inclusion softens the sharpness of loss, making sorrow wearable. In a society where emotional expression was often restrained, this kind of jewelry became a gentle rebellion. It allowed women—especially women—to carry their grief with grace and dignity. To mourn in public, beautifully.
These objects don’t just tell us about loss; they tell us about the people who knew how to honor it. They reflect an era when mourning had protocols, jewelry had purpose, and emotions were channeled into the very gold that clasped around the wrist. Today, to collect such a piece is to acknowledge that there are depths in us still worth dressing.
Contrast this with Lot 157, the 14k yellow gold lamb brooch. A piece so charming it almost escapes seriousness—but don’t be fooled. Its textured gold mimics a lamb’s wool with uncanny softness, while small black enamel touches give it just the right sense of whimsy. And yet, it stands for something larger than mere playfulness. In its innocence, it holds the echo of pastoral dreams and forgotten childhoods. Jewelry like this was often gifted to mark new beginnings—a christening, perhaps, or a first birthday. To own such a piece today is to hold the possibility of beginnings, no matter how long ago the first chapter closed.
These objects, though static in form, are dynamic in meaning. They remind us that joy and grief, celebration and reflection, often wear the same gold. The Alex Cooper Gallery Sale brings these layers to the surface.
Symbol and Story — The Narrative Within Every Setting
Some pieces in the sale are not overtly sentimental. Their beauty lies instead in their craftsmanship and metaphor. Take Lot 162: an 18k yellow gold bypass ring, adorned with diamonds and sapphires. At first glance, it's simply elegant. But linger longer, and it begins to unfold. The bypass style, where two arms of the ring arc past each other rather than meeting flush, suggests movement, duality, and negotiation. It's a design language of fluid relationships. Of love that evolves. Of tension and resolution held within one graceful curve.
Sapphires, traditionally associated with wisdom and faithfulness, deepen this conversation. They are the stone of Saturn—the slow, enduring planet that teaches discipline and maturity. Paired with diamonds, which symbolize clarity and strength, the ring becomes more than a trinket. It becomes a visual sonnet on union and endurance.
Such a piece could have been an engagement ring in the 1950s or a modern statement of independence now. That’s the other magic of jewelry—it slips between generations, reinterpreted with each wearer. The ring's meaning isn't fixed. It flows, just as its design suggests.
Another noteworthy inclusion is the collection of loose diamonds that opens the auction. These unmounted stones, both rough and refined, represent potential. They are the unwritten pages of future heirlooms. To purchase a loose diamond is to begin a narrative, not finish one. It is to imagine a ring not yet cast, a love not yet professed, a milestone not yet reached. These stones call not just to collectors, but to dreamers.
And then there are items like vintage cufflinks, Art Deco bracelets, or the occasional signed designer piece from the 20th century—each a reminder that elegance evolves. That even restraint can be revolutionary. That simplicity can be stunning.
The Poetics of Preservation — Why Collecting Is an Act of Resistance
To engage with antique and vintage jewelry today is to move against the current. We live in a time of fast fashion, constant churn, and digital impermanence. But to buy a Victorian bracelet or an Edwardian brooch is to step out of that timeline and into something slower, richer, and infinitely more meaningful.
The deep satisfaction of owning a piece from the Alex Cooper Gallery Sale lies not only in the object itself, but in the ethos it upholds. These pieces were made to last, both in materials and in spirit. They are survivors. Their clasps may need adjusting, their chains may be fine and delicate, but their emotional tensile strength is unmatched.
And here is the deeper truth: when you wear antique jewelry, you become a participant in a much older story. One that transcends trends and algorithms. You become part curator, part custodian. You are saying that what mattered once still matters now. That the touch of a jeweler’s hand in 1880 holds as much power as a tech innovation in 2025.
There is radical beauty in that idea. That elegance doesn’t age. That grace has no expiration date. That in a world brimming with artificial brilliance, true luster still comes from gold that has survived the years and stones that have waited eons to be seen.
The Alex Cooper Gallery Sale, then, is not just an event. It is a quiet revolution for those who believe in permanence. In narrative. In history held between fingers and pressed against the skin.
In its curation, the sale becomes a kind of sanctuary—where each lot whispers not just “Buy me,” but “Remember me.” And in choosing to listen, to acquire not for novelty but for legacy, we do something rare. We slow down. We feel. We connect.
When the Past Speaks in Future Tense — The Transformative Energy of Heirloom Design
There’s something almost sacred about standing at the intersection of past and present, and nowhere is that more palpable than within the ornate confines of the Alex Cooper Gallery Sale. Here, antique and vintage jewelry doesn’t rest silently under glass. It hums with potential. It beckons us not only to admire but to reimagine. The pieces offered don’t demand we replicate their original context—they invite us to extend their lives in ways once unthinkable.
To engage with these treasures is to embrace an evolution of meaning. An 18th-century brooch, a mid-century pendant, a Victorian charm—they were all born in specific moments, designed for specific purposes. And yet, in this era of creative autonomy, they offer themselves up to new identities, new roles, and new wearers. It is within this framework that antique jewelry becomes a living art form. Unlike mass-produced, trend-bound accessories, these objects offer space for reinvention without erasure. They don’t need to be changed to be relevant—they need only be re-seen.
Lot 164 exemplifies this beautifully. A 1960s/70s pendant with a commanding 2.5-inch diameter, it is centered by a deep black onyx framed by radiant 18k yellow gold and diamond accents. There’s a palpable sense of planetary motion in the arrangement, as if the onyx is a fixed celestial body and the diamonds its orbiting stars. While striking in its original form, it is by no means confined. This disc could become a brooch, a centerpiece in a new statement necklace, or even a modern talisman on a leather cord. This isn’t about dismantling history; it’s about extending its language.
The emotional effect of jewelry like this is layered. It’s not merely an accessory but a mirror—one that reflects both the moment it was created and the wearer it finds now. In reinterpreting antique jewelry, we engage in subtle acts of reclamation. We allow these pieces to evolve with us, while respecting where they’ve been.
Beauty in Imperfection — The Romance of the Inexact
Not all transformation is loud. Some changes happen quietly, in the intimate space between design and desire. Lot 183, an antique diamond ring with a subtly askew Old Mine cut center stone, challenges the myth of flawlessness. In its asymmetry lies a kind of emotional honesty. This is a diamond that refuses to conform to modern precision—and therein lies its poetry.
The setting only enhances this impression. With cut-out metalwork reminiscent of filigree lace, the ring feels both delicate and grounded. It does not attempt to erase its age; it wears it like a second skin. The gentle irregularity of the diamond—its off-center glow, its warm hue—echoes the Japanese philosophy of wabi-sabi: the aesthetic of the incomplete, the impermanent, the imperfect. Here, beauty is not engineered but inherited.
In a cultural landscape that so often prizes symmetry, clarity, and mass appeal, this kind of ring is revolutionary. It offers an alternative engagement for an alternative engagement ring—a love story not bound by tradition, but freed by feeling. For those who find beauty in narrative rather than perfection, this ring doesn’t just speak. It sings.
To wear such a ring is to commit to authenticity. To choose it is to say that stories, like people, are rarely symmetrical—and that’s what makes them real. A piece like this becomes more than jewelry. It becomes biography. A visual declaration that love—like diamonds—need not be flawless to endure.
Adornment as Canvas — Redefining the Use of Symbolic Pieces
There is something compelling about jewelry that resists being static. The pieces that once adorned bodices and cravats, wrists and veils, now find new roles as pendants, hairpieces, or layered modern heirlooms. This is especially true of lots like 278, 288, and 292—each rich with historical nuance and waiting to be reborn through contemporary styling.
Lot 278 is a wreath-motif brooch dating from the turn of the century. Traditionally a symbol of eternity, the wreath in jewelry design often appears in mourning pieces or as tokens of lifelong devotion. This particular brooch melds diamonds, pearls, and enamel with tender grace. Its round silhouette calls to mind not only classic elegance but endless adaptability. Today, it could be pinned to a velvet sash, clipped to the collar of a denim jacket, or reimagined as the centerpiece in a bridal tiara. Its reinvention does not deny its past; it simply lets that past expand.
Lot 288, meanwhile, offers something more mythic: a black and white cameo depicting scenes of mythology. The cameo—a once-venerated art form—is often dismissed in modern styling as old-fashioned. But set on a velvet ribbon and worn as a choker, or reworked as the centerpiece of a structured gold torque necklace, it transcends categorization. It brings the classical into dialogue with the contemporary. It becomes not just a relic of the past, but a question mark for the present—Who are the gods and goddesses of now?
And then there is Lot 292, a pendant bathed in Victorian elegance and dreamy hues. With angel skin coral and robin’s egg blue enamel, it feels almost prophetic in its alignment with today’s pastel renaissance. The color palette is soft yet not shy; it dares to be tender. Worn on a long gold chain, it could be the anchor of a minimalist look, or layered among other pendants to tell a story of contrast. Its delicacy is its strength—proof that even the gentlest designs can command presence.
Each of these pieces whispers an invitation to those willing to listen: adornment is not fixed. It is fluid, collaborative, alive. The wearer is not just a custodian but a co-creator. Through reinvention, the story continues.
The Language of Possibility — Creating with the Past in Mind
Lot 303 presents a final flourish—a collection that encourages imagination through sheer diversity. A set of cufflinks and a charm holder pendant with black enamel detailing and a puffed heart charm. These are not just items to be worn as-is. They are fragments waiting for reinterpretation.
The cufflinks, for example, are ripe for transformation. Their compact size and symmetry lend themselves perfectly to conversion into rings—perhaps one for the wearer and one for a beloved. Or they might become drop earrings, unified by their twin heritage but adapted for dual expression. Meanwhile, the charm holder is a storyteller’s dream. Already adorned with a puffed heart, it can be a base for a charm necklace that evolves over time—each new addition a marker of personal memory, growth, or hope.
This collection, more than any other, underscores the idea that jewelry is a language—and one we’re all invited to speak. Some may preserve it. Others may revise it. But all who wear it contribute to its ongoing narrative.
Jewelry, in this sense, becomes a form of authorship. The metalsmith may create the form, but the wearer gives it meaning. With each transformation—whether subtle or bold—we are writing our own chapters into the lineage of these treasures. We are saying: I see you. I honor you. And I will carry you forward in ways your maker could never have foreseen.
This is the real magic of the Alex Cooper Gallery Sale. Not simply that it offers us a chance to acquire exquisite pieces, but that it encourages us to engage with them. To see them not as finished artifacts, but as beginnings. As provocations. As promises.
The Pulse of Memory — Collecting as an Act of Feeling
Jewelry collecting is often misunderstood as a form of aesthetic indulgence or material display. But those who truly understand the practice know that it is neither frivolous nor merely transactional. To collect jewelry is to engage in an act of deep emotional resonance. Each piece, however small or grand, becomes a vessel. It carries not only history and craft but longing, remembrance, and personal mythology. At the Alex Cooper Gallery Sale, the air itself seems to thicken with this layered sense of meaning. There’s more than gold and gemstones on display—there are echoes.
The sensation begins before ownership. As you walk among the display cases or scroll through the catalog, something stirs—not in the intellect, but in the body. Perhaps it’s the silhouette of a Victorian pendant, or the unexpected warmth of a 1960s mod brooch. Perhaps it’s something as unassuming as a worn gold band. You’re not always sure why a piece pulls you in, but you feel it. There’s a hum, a flicker of emotional recognition. Jewelry speaks in that strange language—the one we feel in the chest, the one that bypasses logic and goes straight to memory.
This is not nostalgia for a time we lived. It’s nostalgia for something more archetypal: connection, craftsmanship, the poetry of a slower world. A ring from the 1800s doesn’t just showcase old-world design—it reminds us that love, loss, celebration, and survival are timeless human experiences. It becomes a relic not only of its maker but of every hand it has passed through, and every heart it has touched. When we collect, we are not merely acquiring—we are remembering. Even if the memory is not ours.
That’s the unspoken intimacy of the auction. The click of a bid isn’t just about price. It’s about recognition. A buyer doesn’t just say, “I want this.” They say, “I see you. I know what you mean.”
Imperfection and Intuition — The Language of the Soul
Not all beauty is clean-cut. Some of it is worn. Some of it is misshapen, asymmetrical, softened by time and touch. And yet, this is often where the deepest emotional resonance resides. Take, for instance, the quiet genius of Lot 183—an antique diamond ring with an off-center Old Mine cut, set in cut-out metalwork that feels more like lace than infrastructure. It is not flawless, and that is precisely its magic.
Modern culture teaches us to equate beauty with symmetry, with sharpness, with calculated precision. But the emotional landscape of jewelry collecting subverts that entirely. A truly moving piece of jewelry does not need to be perfect; it needs to be true. The asymmetry of a diamond may mirror the asymmetry of life itself—the way love defies logic, the way memories are always unevenly shaped. Collectors who fall for these pieces are not charmed by perfection. They are drawn to truth.
There is a quiet rebellion in this. To choose a piece that defies standard beauty is to assert your own emotional vocabulary. It is to say, “This is what speaks to me. This is what feels like home.” The collector does not need an appraisal to tell them what is valuable. They know. They feel it. They understand that jewelry is not a fixed object—it is a living mirror, constantly shifting meaning depending on who wears it, why, and when.
This intuitive connection is especially present in the more modest lots of the Alex Cooper sale—rings with worn shanks, pendants with slightly cloudy stones, lockets that no longer clasp quite as tightly. These are not flaws. These are fingerprints. And to collect them is to honor the truth that life, too, leaves marks. That beauty lies not in erasure, but in embrace.
More Than Metal — Jewelry as Talisman, Anchor, and Spell
In a world that feels increasingly untethered, people search for anchors. For something real. Something that lasts. Something that holds. Jewelry, for many collectors, becomes that something. It is more than adornment. It becomes a form of spiritual infrastructure—part armor, part amulet. These are pieces worn not just for style but for strength.
A pendant worn through a divorce. A bracelet received after a loss. A ring passed down when someone was born. These are not trivial tokens. They are the architecture of survival. They become, in the deepest sense, touchstones. Objects we return to when we forget who we are. And this is not exclusive to the seasoned collector. Even a novice, making their first bid at the Alex Cooper Gallery Sale, might experience that same pull: the feeling that a piece is not just beautiful—it is meant.
There’s something ceremonial about these objects. Not in the grand, religious sense, but in the everyday sacred. To put on a ring that once belonged to a stranger is to fold their story into yours. To fasten a locket and feel its weight against your chest is to carry not just gold, but gravity. The jewelry becomes a companion. A reminder. A promise.
And for some, the collection itself becomes a ritual. Not in how it’s acquired, but in how it’s worn. A ring for courage. A brooch for remembrance. A necklace for hope. These are private incantations—emotional truths made wearable.
Lot after lot at the sale offers such possibilities. A black enamel charm holder may be just metal to some. But to another, it’s a new beginning. A wreath brooch may read traditional. But to someone else, it’s protection in circular form. These pieces do not instruct. They invite. And the wearer decides what they mean.
From One Heart to Another — Jewelry as Generational Bridge
Perhaps the most profound layer of collecting is not personal but communal. Jewelry has a unique ability to link generations, to carry not just beauty but bloodlines. It is one of the few art forms designed explicitly for transmission. Made to be worn now and later. Touched by many hands. Loved by many hearts.
A pendant becomes a thread in a family tapestry. A charm added to a bracelet by a mother becomes a story passed to a daughter. An Edwardian ring worn at a wedding may reappear decades later at another union, its significance deepened by memory. This is how jewelry becomes heirloom—not through expense, but through presence. Through proximity to the moments that matter.
Even among strangers, jewelry can build bridges. A buyer at the Alex Cooper sale may never know the previous owner of a brooch—but they carry them forward nonetheless. They honor them by wearing it. By loving it again. By making new memories alongside the old.
In this way, the sale is not just a marketplace. It’s a gathering. Of histories. Of hearts. Of hands reaching out across time. A shared recognition that beauty, when worn with meaning, becomes something greater. It becomes legacy.
That is the emotional landscape of collecting. It is not about quantity. Not about status. It is about soul. And at the Alex Cooper Gallery Sale, soul is what gleams brightest of all.
Jewelry as Continuum — The Life of a Piece After the Auction
The sound of the gavel marks an ending, but also a beginning. At the Alex Cooper Gallery Sale, the final bid isn’t a period—it’s a comma in a sentence still being written. Jewelry, by its very nature, refuses finality. It moves, evolves, and lives far beyond its maker, its seller, or even its first wearer. What begins in a velvet box or auction catalog does not remain there. Once claimed, these treasures do not retire into silence; they begin again.
To purchase a piece at auction is to adopt it. You are not merely acquiring an object—you are accepting a role in its unfolding life. Some buyers understand this instinctively. They feel the weight not just of carat but of context. They recognize the echo in a brooch’s curve, the unspoken memory in a locket’s clasp. In this understanding, they become caretakers rather than consumers.
But the true magic unfolds in what happens afterward. A ring once worn by a stranger becomes the signature piece of a modern romantic. A charm bracelet from the 1920s is added to, layer by layer, until it tells a multigenerational story. The pieces are no longer static—they are fluid. And in that fluidity, they find purpose anew.
Lot 303—a black enamel charm holder with a puffed heart—embodies this philosophy entirely. It is not a finished story. It is an open book. Each charm added in the years to come becomes a punctuation mark in the sentence of a life. Births, travels, heartbreaks, reunions—each moment can be captured in metal and worn not as decoration but as declaration. Jewelry of this kind is never complete, only continued.
Collectors understand this. Whether consciously or not, they curate with the awareness that their collection may one day outlive them. They do not gather for the now alone, but for the someday. A cufflink might become a pendant. A single earring, repurposed into a talisman. Jewelry asks us to think not only about use but about inheritance, not only about self but about story.
The Private Museum — Collecting as Curation of Self and Family
A jewelry box is not just a container. It is a cabinet of curiosities, a private museum, a sacred archive. Every collector, in time, becomes a curator—not only of style but of sentiment. Their choices reflect not just aesthetic preferences but deeply personal coordinates of identity, history, and love.
To curate jewelry is to build a language of self. Some rings are worn daily, like punctuation marks on one’s personality. Others are reserved for sacred occasions—birthdays, anniversaries, mourning, or celebration. And some pieces are never worn at all. They remain wrapped in tissue, stored in drawers, kept like secrets or promises. Their value is not diminished by their stillness. Often, their silence means more.
Curation, in this sense, is a tender art. It is not about creating an exhibit for others. It is about assembling symbols that remind us of who we are—or who we once were. Some collectors catalogue their jewelry the way scholars archive manuscripts, with notes on provenance and emotion. They include photographs of the first day it was worn, handwritten stories about how it was acquired, what it signified.
Imagine the transformation of inherited cufflinks into three matching charms for siblings, each infused with their father’s legacy. Or the decision to turn a broken Victorian brooch into the central motif of a modern wedding bouquet. These are not accidents. They are acts of intention. Of love.
Lot 278—a diamond and pearl wreath brooch from the turn of the century—is one such relic. It might first be worn on a velvet lapel, but its journey does not end there. One day, it may be tucked into a bride’s bouquet. Or affixed to a ribbon binding letters from a grandmother to a child. Its use is secondary to its meaning. The hands it passes through are part of its evolving design.
We are not simply collectors. We are archivists of sentiment. Our choices echo. They linger long after us.
Jewelry as Legacy — The Transfer of Meaning Through Time
When we speak of legacy, we often imagine institutions or grand inheritances. But true legacy is rarely loud. It moves like a whisper. And jewelry—small, personal, wearable—is its most powerful language. A single pendant can carry more weight than a library. A simple ring can hold more meaning than an entire estate.
Legacy lives in gesture. The necklace that is always touched before a difficult conversation. The bracelet that is worn to every graduation, every first date, every loss. These pieces are not merely accessories. They are vessels of memory and markers of lineage. When passed down, they are not given—they are entrusted.
Children and grandchildren rarely inherit jewelry for its appraised value. They inherit it for what it witnessed. The locket worn through a war. The earrings gifted after a miscarriage. The charm bracelet that held a grandmother’s laugh. These pieces do not just connect generations—they bind them. They are not evidence of wealth but proof of presence.
This is where collecting becomes something else entirely. It becomes a love letter to the future. A silent promise that beauty, resilience, and memory can survive us. That the stories we write with our lives can be carried forward in gold, enamel, and stone.
And sometimes, the meaning isn’t even fully known. A granddaughter may wear a cameo without knowing the mythology it depicts. A son may hold onto a ring without knowing its first owner’s name. And yet, they feel it. That quiet pull. That sense of belonging to something longer, deeper, older. Jewelry transmits emotion even when words are lost.
To curate your collection with legacy in mind is to say: I was here. I felt things. I loved people. I survived moments. I honored my past. And now, I offer it forward.
The Silent Sparkle — Jewelry’s Afterlife in the Hands of the Future
What will become of the pieces we choose today? That is the final question—and perhaps the most profound. For every piece collected, there comes a moment when it passes on. Whether to a loved one, to a museum, or to another collector’s hands, that moment is not an ending. It is a transformation.
Jewelry, when given with care, becomes sacred. Its sparkle becomes secondary to its spirit. A mother’s engagement ring, set with a small imperfect diamond, may one day be reset for a daughter—its flaws preserved as part of its integrity. A grandfather’s stick pin may become a necklace for a granddaughter’s wedding, its design unchanged but its meaning reborn.
Even jewelry that seems too old-fashioned, too delicate, or too ornate to wear in today’s world finds new relevance when seen with imagination. A brooch becomes a hairpiece. A mourning ring becomes a daily companion. A single antique charm becomes the first in a series of life markers, collected one by one.
This is how jewelry lives. It adapts. It survives. It reflects the hands that hold it and the hearts that give it meaning. And that is the deeper truth of the Alex Cooper Gallery Sale. It is not a sale. It is a passage. A handoff. A moment when the past finds a future.
And for the collector who understands this, there is no greater joy. Not just in acquisition, but in imagining what will come next. Not just in possessing beauty, but in passing it on.
Conclusion: The Spark That Outlives Us
In the end, collecting jewelry is not about possession—it is about presence. Through each lot at the Alex Cooper Gallery Sale, we’ve witnessed how jewelry transcends trend and time. These are not mere ornaments. They are vessels of memory, symbols of resilience, and artifacts of longing. They are the fragments we carry when words fall short.
From the initial allure of raw diamonds and Victorian lacework to the imaginative transformations of cameos and cufflinks, these pieces do more than dazzle. They remind us of the human impulse to preserve beauty, to honor emotion, and to pass on meaning. In every clasp and curve, we find proof that memory can be worn. That legacy can be touched. That the past never truly disappears—it simply waits for someone to see it again.
And that is the magic of a sale like this. It is not simply a marketplace. It is a meeting place for history and hope, for craftsmanship and creativity. It is a quiet rebellion against forgetfulness. A promise that beauty, when treated with reverence, becomes eternal.
Whether you are new to collecting or have curated your story for decades, remember this: the jewelry you love today will one day speak for you. Let it whisper of your values, your joys, your endurance. Let it shine with the light of a life well-lived. Let it carry you, long after you’ve gone.