That dost least fault with innocent tears bewail?
Meek daisy, whose white petals do unfurl
From soul wherein all golden visions shine!
So near to God thou seem’st, and pray’st so well,
The book I kiss whereon thy pure eyes dwell,
So grows my prayer the words that have been thine,
So surely grows it sweeter in His ear,
Tuned to the music of thy singing clear.
III.
May that brave saint, sweet wife, whose name is thine,