His poems, "The Temple," were published in 1633, and their great popularity is a proof that piety had not wholly deserted the Anglican Church for the Sects. "The Temple" opens with "The Porch," a series of moral and religious counsels, in verses of six stanzas. The poem "Affliction" is autobiographical: at first, in his career, "There was no month but May". Then came maladies and the deaths of friends Whereas my birth and spirit rather took The way that takes the Town, Thou didst betray me to a lingering book And wrap me in a gown... Ah, my dear God, though I am quite forgot, Let me not love thee, if I love thee not. Sacred poetry is of all kinds the most difficult. Herbert's is full of conceits, though he has not the extravagances that mar the work of Donne and Crashaw. Verses in the shape of altars and of wings are examples of extreme decadence, but these are rare. Herbert's simplest poem is his best, the famous Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky, The dew shall weep thy fall to-night, For thou must die. "The Pearl" is also of great beauty and autobiographic interest. He knows the ways of Learning, Honour, and Pleasure, and he has chosen the better way. The British Church is commended as the Midway between "Her on the hills" (the Seven Hills) and Her that in the valley is so shy Of dressing, that her hair doth lie About her ears; While she avoids her neighbour's pride, She wholly goes on th' other side, And nothing wears; better than wearing "rags of Aaron's old wardrobe" said Milton. "The Quip" hath a certain holy gaiety, as of a ballad. Herbert was not a great poet, he never storms the cloudcapt towers, and "flaming walls of the world," like Crashaw. But he has been dear to many holy and humble men of heart. Vaughan.