Imprisoned In A Cage Of

Approval Of What Is Approved Of Is As False As A Well-kept Vow.

And Behind Their Frail Partitions Business Women Lie And Soak, Seeing Through The Draughty Skylight Flying Clouds And Railway Smoke. Rest You There, Poor Unbelov'd Ones, Lap Your Loneliness In Heat, All Too Soon The Tiny Breakfast, Trolley-bus And Windy Street!

Hymns Are The Poetry Of The People.

Hymn Tunes Are The Nearest We've Got To English Folk Music.

Lord, Reserve For Me A Crown, And Do Not Let My Shares Go Down.