I went to the Garden of Love
And saw what I never had seen:
A chapel was built in the midst
Where I used to play in the green.
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 was filled with graves
And tombstones where flowers should be
And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds
And binding with briers my joys & desires.
William Blake, 1757-1827