I went to the garden of love,
And I saw what I naver had seen:
A Chapel was built in a mist,
Where I used to play in a garden.
And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And “Thou shalt not” writ over the door;
So I turn’d to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore;
And I saw it filled with graves,
And tomb-stones where flowers should be;
And Priests with black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys & desires.