Blown free from our constant notions
That hath in sense extension unerring
Belief and faith winsome ablutions
Nonsense saith some Puritanical hearts
That hath more will than trust in grace
And constraining men in all their arts
That would by God's own troth lay waste
To each and every good notion gave birth
By hope and love and skill, by belief's art
Each man made light and swift and whole by mirth
And even flesh and dirt given still some part
Herein breaks free the bubbling brook of life
That extinguishes fire of divine strife
C.M. Hagmaier 12/27/14
Meh. Iambic pentameter doesn't come naturally to me, and I think I got a couple feet wrong there, but oh, well. There's a reason nobody does anything in formal measures anymore.
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