Strapped, Noosed, Nighing His Hour, He Stood

Poems Very Seldom Consist Of Poetry And Nothing Else; And Pleasure Can Be Derived Also From Their Other Ingredients. I Am Convinced That Most Readers, When They Think They Are Admiring Poetry, Are Deceived By Inability To Analyse Their Sensations, And That They Are Really Admiring, Not The Poetry Of The Passage Before Them, But Something Else In It, Which They Like Better Than Poetry.

Good Religious Poetry... Is Likely To Be Most Justly Appreciated And Most Discriminately Relished By The Undevout.

Wanderers Eastward, Wanderers West, Know You Why You Cannot Rest? 'tis That Every Mother's Son Travails With A Skeleton. Lie Down In The Bed Of Dust; Bear The Fruit That Bear You Must; Bring The Eternal Seed To Light, And Morn Is All The Same As Night.

Happy Bridegroom, Hesper Brings All Desired And Timely Things. All Whom Morning Sends To Roam, Hesper Loves To Lead Them Home. Home Return Who Him Behold, Child To Mother, Sheep To Fold, Bird To Nest From Wandering Wide: Happy Bridegroom, Seek Your Bride.

And How Am I To Face The Odds Of Man's Bedevilment And God's? I, A Stranger And Afraid In A World I Never Made.