Shall cross your path, my dear.
Call no man foe, but never love a stranger.
Build up no plan, nor any star pursue.
Go forth with crowds; in loneliness is danger.
Thus nothing God can send,
And nothing God can do
Shall pierce your peace, my friend.
THE NEWER ZION
When I achieve the chestnut joke of dying,
When I slip through that Gate at Kensal Green,