| Every moment I bemoan me Of the hand of separation |
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| Thy beauty and loveliness take the world, End to end, all of it, side to side |
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| Since in this age, companion Nor comrade, that fault-free is |
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| Whoever observance and faith With the people of faith keepeth |
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| Though the saying to the preacher Of this city light no whit is |
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| "Wrong," quoth I, "is this thou doist; Ill-advised the thing, to wit, is |
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| I for constancy renowned am Of the fair, the candle like |
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| Ballad of Ladies' Love, Number Two |
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| In the bigot seeming-holy Knowledge of our state is not |
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| Go thy ways, preacher! In vain This all thy clamour and prate is |
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