| |
| ELECTED Silence, sing to me | |
| And beat upon my whorlèd ear, | |
| Pipe me to pastures still and be | |
| The music that I care to hear. | |
| |
| Shape nothing, lips; be lovely-dumb: | 5 |
| It is the shut, the curfew sent | |
| From there where all surrenders come | |
| Which only makes you eloquent. | |
| |
| Be shellèd, eyes, with double dark | |
| And find the uncreated light: | 10 |
| This ruck and reel which you remark | |
| Coils, keeps, and teases simple sight. | |
| |
| Palate, the hutch of tasty lust, | |
| Desire not to be rinsed with wine: | |
| The can must be so sweet, the crust | 15 |
| So fresh that come in fasts divine! | |
| |
| Nostrils, your careless breath that spend | |
| Upon the stir and keep of pride, | |
| What relish shall the censers send | |
| Along the sanctuary side! | 20 |
| |
| O feel-of-primrose hands, O feet | |
| That want the yield of plushy sward, | |
| But you shall walk the golden street | |
| And you unhouse and house the Lord. | |
| |
| And, Poverty, be thou the bride | 25 |
| And now the marriage feast begun, | |
| And lily-coloured clothes provide | |
| Your spouse not laboured-at nor spun. |
