When One Man Dies, One Chapter Is

Verse Hath A Middle Nature: Heaven Keeps Souls, The Grave Keeps Bodies, Verse The Fame Enrols.

Poetry Is A Counterfeit Creation, And Makes Things That Are Not, As Though They Were

Let Man's Soul Be A Sphere, And Then, In This, The Intelligence That Moves, Devotion Is.

So In A Voice, So In A Shapeless Flame, Angels Affect Us Often.

Take Me To You, Imprison Me, For I, Except You Enthrall Me, Never Shall Be Free, Nor Ever Chaste, Except You Ravish Me.