Many are the doors of the spirit that lead
Into the inmost shrine
And I count the gates of the temple divine
Since the god of the place is God indeed
And these are the gates that God decreed
Should lead to his house: kisses and wine
Cool depths of thought, youth without rest
And calm old age, prayer and desire
The lover's and mother's breast
The fire of sense and the poet's fire
But he that worships the gates alone
Forgetting the shrine beyond, shall see
