The North Transept: The Psalms XV

'Tis thus Imagination's airy swell
Bears on the soul, and fills her buoyant wing ;
Oft has she come with foulest airs from Hell ;
Here purer gales their sweet compulsion bring
From the fresh haunts of never-fading spring ;
Sure thus to school our fancies it were wise,
That they may wait on our eternal King,
Gathering meek thoughts upon His praise to rise,
Else vanities they wed, and lurk in earthly guise.