Tell Me Not Here, It Needs Not

Three Minutes Thought Would Suffice To Find This Out; But Thought Is Irksome And Three Minutes Is A Long Time.

They Put Arsenic In His Meat And Stared Aghast To Watch Him Eat; They Poured Strychnine In His Cup And Shook To See Him Drink It Up.

Into My Hear An Air That Kills Through Yon Far Country Blows What Are Those Blue Remembered Hills What Spires,what Farms Are Those? That Is The Land Of Lost Content I Can See It Shining Plain The Happy Highways Where I Went And Cannot Come Again.

On Wenlock Edge The Wood's In Trouble;his Forest Fleece The Wrekin Heaves;the Wind It Plies The Saplings Double, And Thick On Severn Snow The Leaves.

The Thoughts Of Others Were Light And Fleeting, Of Lovers' Meeting Or Luck Or Fame. Mine Were Of Trouble, And Mine Were Steady; So I Was Ready When Trouble Came.