Shall dwindle and unravel,
Sweetly to shine like this of thine,
Rare Beauty, scarce a cavil.
TO ——
A Stranger, and thou took’st me in. Great Heart!
It fits not well my temper to high-trape
My woes before a listless world, or drape
With melancholy habit each grim part
Life bad me to, for with a sovereign art
She did it so, my stubborn thought to shape.