Excommunicate

I do not find an altar, or a priest, Nor any sacred still confessional; Masses and vespers, I must shun them all, Tho’ every belfry bid me to the feast! I may not wear the cross upon my breast; Nor make its sign;--or in repentance fall Before the nichèd saint. In canticle I must not chaunt one frail blurred note, or least.

For my religion is my joy and shame; My priest, my altar, canticle, and mass Art thou! and lest thou hear my creed, and know; Shouldst hear me sing my love, or pray thy name-- Unshriven with my burden I must go; Proud, excommunicate, I pagan pass!