Malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man.

I a stranger and afraid In a world I never made.

The mortal sickness of a mind too unhappy to be kind.

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.

Clay lies still but blood's a rover Breath's a ware that will not keep Up lad when the journey's over There'll be time enough to sleep.

The loveliest of trees the cherry now is hung with bloom along the bough and stands about the woodland ride wearing white for Eastertide.

Clay lies still but blood's a rover Breath's a ware that will not keep. Up lad: when the journey's over There'll be time enough to sleep.

I a stranger and afraid in a world I never made.

Three minutes' thought would suffice to find this out . but thought is irksome and three minutes is a long time.

Nature not content with denying him the ability to think has endowed him with the ability to write.