A Beardless Cynic Is The Shame Of

Well Observe The Rule Of Not Too Much, By Temperance Taught In What Thou Eat'st And Drink'st.

And Storied Windows Richly Dight, Casting A Dim Religious Light. There Let The Pealing Organ Blow, To The Full-voiced Choir Below, In Service High, And Anthems Clear As May, With Sweetness, Through Mine Ear Dissolve Me Into Ecstasies, And Bring All Heaven Before Mine Eyes.

Tears Such As Angels Weep.

Which Way I Fly Is Hell; Myself Am Hell.

As In An Organ From One Blast Of Wind To Many A Row Of Pipes The Soundboard Breathes.