The poem
The true faith discovered was When painted panel, statuary. Glass-mosaic, window-glass, Amended what was told awry By some peasant gospeller; Swept the Sawdust from the floor Of that working-carpenter. Miracle had its playtime where In damask clothed and on a seat Chryselephantine, cedar-boarded, His majestic Mother sat Stitching at a purple hoarded That He might be nobly breeched In starry towers of Babylon Noah's freshet never reached. King Abundance got Him on Innocence; and Wisdom He. That cognomen sounded best Considering what wild infancy Drove horror from His Mother's breast.