But if you ever come to a road where danger; Or guilt or anguish or shame's to share. Be good to the lad who loves you true, And the soul that was born to die for you; And whistle and I'll be there.

I am not a pessimist but a pejorist (as George Eliot said she was not an optimist but a meliorist); and that philosophy is founded on my observation of the world, not on anything so trivial and irrelevant as personal history.

And malt does more than Milton can to justify God's ways to man.

Three minutes thought would suffice to find this out; but thought is irksome and three minutes is a long time.

To justify God's ways to man.

Give me a land of boughs in leaf A land of trees that stand; Where trees are fallen there is grief; I love no leafless land.

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