From rosy bowers we issue forth, br From east to west, from south to north, br Unseen, unfelt, by night, by day, br Abroad we take our airy way: br We foster love and kindle strife, br The bitter and the sweet of life: br Piercing and sharp, we wound like steel; br Now, smooth as oil, those wounds we heal: br Not strings of pearl are valued more, br Or gems enchased in golden ore; br Yet thousands of us every day, br Worthless and vile, are thrown away. br Ye wise, secure with bars of brass br The double doors through which we pass; br For, once escaped, back to our cell br No human art can us compel.