VI.
There are no bridals but the ones I make;
For men are quicken'd when they turn to me.
The soul obeys me for its body's sake,
And each is form'd for each, as day for night.
'Tis but the soul can pay the body's fee
To win the wisdom of a fool's delight.
VII.
Yea, this is so. My clerks have set it down,
And birds have blabbed it to the winds of heaven.