I Find Cambridge An Asylum, In Every

Shoulder The Sky, My Lad, And Drink Your Ale.

Even When Poetry Has A Meaning, As It Usually Has, It May Be Inadvisable To Draw It Out. Perfect Understanding Will Sometimes Almost Extinguish Pleasure.

Therefore, Since The World Has Still Much Good, But Much Less Good Than Ill, And While The Sun And Moon Endure Luck's A Chance, But Trouble's Sure, I'd Face It As A Wise Man Would, And Train For Ill And Not For Good.

Wanderers Eastward, Wanderers West, Know You Why You Cannot Rest? 'tis That Every Mother's Son Travails With A Skeleton. Lie Down In The Bed Of Dust; Bear The Fruit That Bear You Must; Bring The Eternal Seed To Light, And Morn Is All The Same As Night.

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.