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All English Sonnets

Some in the Church are talking of Euphrates.
And Tigris rivers. Some are ringing bells,
In temples, there by opening golden gates.
With fiery oratory, the Mullah tells,

The message of Mohmad. Burning hells,
Are waiting for the mortals who with hold.
Their Love. Ah! their future is foretold,
In measured, ruthless tones and their yells,

Of agony are smothered in the noise,
Of bells and couches. And quickly swells,
To such a wild crescendo. Equipoise,
Is sheltered. Reason, all its reason sells,

And follows not in reason of the hymns
But what, in its appearance sacred seems.

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