No ladder needs the bird but skies To situate it's wings, Nor any leader's grim baton Arraigns it as it sings. The implements of bliss are few - As Jesus says of Him, "Come unto me" the moiety That wafts the cherubim.
The devil was sick, the devil a saint would be; the devil was well, the devil a saint was he. Quando il diavolo era malato, avrebbe voluto essere un santo; quando il diavolo si è ristabilito, è rimasto diavolo.