Turn The Key Deftly In

Where The Nightingale Doth Sing Not A Senseless, Tranced Thing, But Divine Melodious Truth.

They Swayed About Upon A Rocking Horse, And Thought It Pegasus.

When It Is Moving On Luxurious Wings, The Soul Is Lost In Pleasant Smotherings.

But The Rose Leaves Herself Upon The Brier, For Winds To Kiss And Grateful Bees To Feed.

Where Soil Is, Men Grow, Whether To Weeds Or Flowers.