I'm looking for the face I had, before the world was made.

Some burn damp faggots, others may consume The entire combustible world in one small room.

We have fallen in the dreams the ever-living Breathe on the tarnished mirror of the world, And then smooth out with ivory hands and sigh.

Test every work of intellect or faith and everything that your own hands have wrought.

Locke sank into a swoon; The Garden died; God took the spinning-jenny Out of his side.

Be secret and exult, Because of all things known That is most difficult.

The labor of the alchemists, who were called artist in their day, is a befitting comparison for a deliberate change of style.