Induction

Enter, scared mortal! and in awe behold The chancel of a dying poet’s mind, Hung round, ah! not adorned, with pictures bold And quaint, but roughly touched for the refined. The chancel, not the charnel house! For I To God have raised a shrine immaculate Therein, whereon His name to glorify, And daily mercies meekly celebrate. So in, scared breather! here no hint of death— Skull or cross-bones suggesting sceptic fear; Yea, rather calmer beauty, purer breath Inhaled from a diviner atmosphere.