The Eye, Like A Shattered Mirror, Multiplies

If We Cannot Comprehend God In His Visible Works, How Then In His Inconceivable Thoughts, That Call The Works Into Being?

Keeping Time, Time, Time, In A Sort Of Runic Rhyme, To The Tintinnabulation That So Musically Wells, From The Bells, Bells, Bells.

Man Is An Animal That Diddles, And There Is No Animal That Diddles But Man.

This Maiden She Lived With No Other Thought Than To Love And Be Loved By Me.

And So, Being Young And Dipt In Folly, I Fell In Love With Melancholy.