With rue my heart is laden For golden friends I had, For many a rose-lipped maiden And many a lightfoot lad.

You smile upon your friend to-day, To-day his ills are over; You hearken to the lover's say, And happy is the lover. 'Tis late to hearken, late to smile, But better late than never: I shall have lived a little while Before I die for ever.

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

The fairies break their dances And leave the printed lawn.

The bells they sound on Bredon, And still the steeples hum. "Come all to church, good people"- Oh, noisy bells, be dumb; I hear you, I will come.

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

I think that to transfuse emotion - not to transmit thought but to set up in the reader's sense a vibration corresponding to what was felt by the writer - is the peculiar function of poetry.