Iv

I know not by what secret power Ye flourish so: but ye within your bower More beautiful do seem, And better meat Ye daily yield my soul to eat, Than even the objects I esteem Without my soul. What were the sky, What were the sun, or stars, did ye not lie In me, and represent them there Where else they never could appear! Yea, what were bliss without such thoughts to me, What were my life, what were the Deity?