Good religious poetry... is likely to be most justly appreciated and most discriminately relished by the undevout.

The fairies break their dances And leave the printed lawn.

There, by the starlit fences The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs.

I do not choose the right word, I get rid of the wrong one.

These, in the day when heaven was falling, The hour when earth's foundations fled, Followed their mercenary calling And took their wages and are dead. The British regulars who made the retreat from Mons, beginning August 24, 1914.

Good night; ensured release, Imperishable peace, Have these for yours. * While sky and sea and land And earth's foundations stand And heaven endures. *These three lines are on the tablet over Housman's grave in the parish church at Ludlow, Shropshire, England

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.