Than to face the screaming beggars when they’re crumping up a trench;
I wonder if it’s harder to sing in mellow tones
Of danger, than to face it—say, in a wood like Trone’s;
Is discipline skilled labour, or something children play?
Should the maximum of danger mean the minimum of pay?
TO THE DEVIL ON HIS APPALLING DECADENCE
Satan, old friend and enemy of man;
Lord of the shadows and the sins whereby
We wretches glimpse the sun in Virtue’s sky
Guessing at last the wideness of His plan