Good one. Walter is quoting from one of Lister's poems, "The Judgement." Lister had a funny way with death. For those who've never seen it, I'll copy the rest out here:
THE JUDGMENT
I dreamed the judgment came to me by night
They stood around my bed, severe of mien
And asked one question “what is enstatite?”
“It is an orthorhombic pyroxene,”
I said, and as I spoke I heard the jangle
Of planets crashing down the cosmic seas.
I added hastily: “Its cleavage angle
is eighty-seven (more or less) degrees.
If it were fifty-six, not eighty-seven
We should, quite clearly, have an amphibole.”
At this they swept me, singing up to heaven,
Where angels’ hands received my battered soul.
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