Only, I could endure a transfer—wrought

By angels famed still, through our countryside,

For weights they fetched and carried in old time

When nothing like the need was—transfer, just

Of Joyeux church, exchanged for yonder prig,

Our brand-new stone cream-colored masterpiece.

Well—and you know, and not since this one year,

The quiet seaside country? So do I:

Who like it, in a manner, just because

Nothing is prominently likable