My Prayer

Oh, let no heaviness ever touch my Sweet;
Let sorrow, sadness, gloom, run off and hide.
They in themselves must be themselves complete,
And never seek with good their ill to bide.
Yea, and she is good, sweet, and summ’ry fair.
She needs no contrast ice to prove she’s there,
But walks in ease above low river’s roar,
That came from rain thrust helpless at her glass,
Where she lit smiles on nothing come to pass.
Yea, she is goodness sweet and, more than this,
She wears assuredness upon her lips for bliss,
That when she speaks a fairness wings to ear,
And dull and dark and heavy disappear.
Let she be so, lightness forevermore.

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