Has God at all times reared rich gardens free from feints.
Each flower that yields to sense agreeable perfume,
Speaks volumes to saint’s heart with its mysterious tongue.
Each perfume from a flower rubs atheist’s nose in dirt;
Although he rush about, and boundless nonsense spirt.120
An atheist’s like a chafer clinging to rosebud,
Or like a nervous patient tortured by drum’s thud.
He makes himself as fussy as each touting wight;
But shuts his eyes to flashes of conviction’s light.
He shuts his eyes perversely, with them will not see.