She comes when I am grieving and doth say,
“Child, here is that shall drive your grief away.”
When I am hopeless, kisses me and stirs
My breast with the strong lively courage of hers.
Proud-she will humble me with but a word,
Or with mild mockery at my folly gird;
Fickle-she holds me with her loyal eyes;
Remorseful-tells of neighbouring Paradise;
Envious-”Be not so mad, so mad,” she saith,
“Envied and envier both race with Death”
She my good Angel is: and who is she?-
The soul's divine Physician, Memory.