John Keats on Incense
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“No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet From chain-swung censer teeming; ...”
“ Numb were the Beadsman’s fingers, while he told His rosary, and while his frosted breath, Like pious incense from a censer old, Seem’d taking flight for heaven, without a death, Past the sweet Virgin’s picture, while his prayer he saith.”