Lovers lying two and two Ask not whom they sleep beside, And the bridegroom all night through Never turns him to the bride.

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

Strapped, noosed, nighing his hour, He stood and counted them and cursed his luck; And then the clock collected in the tower Its strength, and struck.

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

All knots that lovers tie Are tied to sever. Here shall your sweetheart lie, Untrue for ever.

White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers tell, And straight through reach the track, Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well, The way will guide one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, far must it remove: White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love.

I find Cambridge an asylum, in every sense of the word.