In the name of the bee And of the butterfly And of the breeze, amen!

Much Madness is divinest Sense -- To a discerning Eye -- Much Sense -- the starkest Madness -- 'Tis the Majority In this, as All, prevail -- Assent -- and you are sane -- Demur -- you're straightway dangerous -- And handled with a Chain --

You are out of the way of temptation and out of the way of the tempter - I didn't mean to make you wicked - but I was - and am - and shall be - and I was with you so much that I couldn't help contaminate.

Mirth is the Mail of Anguish --

The pedigree of honey does not concern the bee; A clover, any time, to him is aristocracy.

If Aims impel these Astral Ones The ones allowed to know Know that which makes them as forgot As Dawn forgets them now

Pain - has an Element of Blank It cannot recollect When it begun - or if there were a time when it was not - It has no Future - but itself - Its Infinite contain Its Past - enlightened to perceive New Periods - of Pain.