The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.
Prisons are built with stones of law,
Brothels with bricks of religion.
I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen
A chapel built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.
And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And thou shalt not write over the door;
So I turn'd to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bare,
And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tomb-stones where floewrs should be
And priests in black gounds, were walking their rounds
And binding with briars, my joys & desires.