Dives In Torment
This was my failure, who thought that the feast
Rivalled the rapture of bird on the wing;
Rivalled the lily all robed like a priest;
Smoke of the pollen when Rose-censers swing.
This was my folly, who gave for a gown–
Purple and gold, and a bracelet and rings,
Shouts in the streets as I rode through the town–
Life in the love of the kinship of things.