1586

To her derided Home
A Weed of Summer came-
She did not know her station low
Nor Ignominy's Name-
Bestowed a summer long
Upon a frameless flower-
Then swept as lightly from disdain
As Lady from her Bower-

Of Bliss the Codes are few-
As Jesus cites of Him-
“Come unto me” the moiety
That wafts the Seraphim-