I saw prayers being made with plastic rosariesnCarpets laid no thought for furniturenAll the dogs are lying downnAll the dogs are lying nAll the dogs are lying downnAll the dogs are lying nnAs I creep way with cracking bowsnThe steeple rosenThe way unknownnThe steeple (?) set me downnI listened to the furnished groundnnShe said soft things nSaid one who laynAt time to see the one turn graynAn ash pipe brim with north heath wet(?)nBut to the ground my ear had bentnnSaid softer thingsnAnd as if InThe while my horse ran a milenAnd lying in the black I weptnFor nare a lad so wayward creptnnListening hard, I felt too youngnThe way would talk with older tonguesnn(?)nnI saw prayers being made with plastic rosariesnCarpets laid no thought for furniturenAll the dogs are lying downnAll the dogs are lying nAll the dogs are lying downnAll the dogs are lying