Jesu, Jesu, The Mad Days That I

There Are Occasions And Causes, Why And Wherefore In All Things.

Some Smack Of Age In You, Some Relish Of The Saltness Of Time.

But What's So Blessed-fair That Fears No Blot? Thou Mayst Be False, And Yet I Know It Not.

Modest Wisdom Plucks Me From Over-credulous Haste.

I Take Thee At Thy Word: Call Me But Love, And I'll Be New Baptized; Henceforth I Never Will Be Romeo.