Temple Of The Mind

The unpolluted temple of the mind.

And turns it by degrees to the souls essence,

Till all be made immortal: but when lust

By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk,

But most by lead and lavish act of sin,

Lets in defilement to the inward parts,

The soul grows clotted by contagion,

Embodies, and imbrutes, till she quite loose

The divine property of her first being.

Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp