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Soothing litany, play upon this restless ear,
Much like a zephyr's beat on silent sails;
It matters not how sweet the strain I hear,
The melody of your voice through all prevails.

Through stained-glass windows, most splendid lights do play
On crowds of weary eyes in need of care;
Yet all may well have been an ashen gray,
Compared to thy sweet countenance, so fair.

Within cathedral walls the sacred psalms
Do cleanse our tainted souls of murky sin;
Still, a simple, wicked thought of you disarms
The tuneful scriptures might ere it begin.

Not sound nor sight of God, pray, pardon me,
Can e'er suppress my endless thoughts of thee.