Poem 113 ("Nature, be thou my monitress!" I…)

"Nature, be thou my monitress!" I cried In accents clear. She shook the very base of human pride, And whispered, Fear."

Lastly of Love did I beseech this grace, To come to thee; Love turned on me a dark and dreadful face, 'Twas Jealousy.

My faith had gone, my hope was well-nigh dead, My strength to seek; Last came a memory. "Learn of Me," it said, "For I am meek."