Our Church

If we were in a wood, my dear,
Each tree a god to see,
I’d cut each one, and have good cheer,
When all were bowed to thee.
These fallen gods would stand a church,
If set right properly,
And come the night we’d show our church
The rites of ecstasy.
When cometh dawn, with birds about,
All singing happily,
Our love for gods would feel no doubt,
For they have died for we.

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