The morrow bequeaths to its morrow again.
"Touch and feel how the flesh is perfect
Beyond the compass of dream to be!
'Bone of my bone,' said God to Adam;
'Core of my core,' say I to thee.
"Look and see how the form is goodly
Beyond the reach of desire and art!
For he who fashioned the world so easily
Laughed in his sleeve as he walked apart.
"Therefore, O wanderer, cease from desiring;