Chapter LXI

How oft, when young, my brothers I would shun If their religious feelings were not spun Of my own cobweb, which I find was but A spider's revelation of the sun.

LXII

Now, mosques and churches--even a Kaaba Stone, Korans and Bibles--even a martyr's bone,-- All these and more my heart can tolerate, For my religion's love, and love alone.