Silent As Despairing Love, And Strong As

To Create A Little Flower Is The Labour Of Ages.

I Went To The Garden Of Love, And Saw What I Never Had Seen: A Chapel Was Built In The Midst, Where I Used To Play On The Green. And The Gates Of This Chapel Were Shut, And 'thou Shalt Not' Writ Over The Door; So I Turn'd To The Garden Of Love, That So Many Sweet Flowers Bore. And I Saw It Was Filled With Graves, And Tomb-stones Where Flowers Should Be: And Priests In Black Gowns, Were Walking Their Rounds, And Binding With Briars, My Joys & Desires.

More! More! Is The Cry Of A Mistaken Soul.

A Divine Image Cruelty Has A Human Heart, And Jealousy A Human Face; Terror The Human Form Divine, And Secresy The Human Dress. The Human Dress Is Forged Iron, The Human Form A Fiery Forge, The Human Face A Furnace Sealed, The Human Heart Its Hungry Gorge.

Struggling In My Father's Hands, Striving Against My Swaddling Bands, Bound And Weary, I Thought Best To Sulk Upon My Mother's Breast.