Than lighting candles in the mid-day sun;
Her shining virtues did so far exceed,
That of this lesser lustre there’s no need.
These praise her in the gates; these speak on earth,
Her higher extract and her heavenly birth.
And now she’s parted hence, but to go home;
For where she born was, thither must she come.
Could cares, or tears, or prayers have her repriev’d,
She had, to our great comfort, longer lived.
Farewell, then, dearest Saint, till thou and I