Three Minutes Thought Would Suffice To Find

When The Journey's Over/there'll Be Time Enough To Sleep.

Now Hollow Fires Burn Out To Black, And Lights Are Guttering Low: Square Your Shoulders, Lift Your Pack And Leave Your Friends And Go.

Lovers Lying Two And Two Ask Not Whom They Sleep Beside, And The Bridegroom All Night Through Never Turns Him To The Bride.

To Justify God's Ways To Man.

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.