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    This rare tablet doth include

    Poverty with Sanctitude.

    Past midnight this poor maid hath spun,

    Ahe work is not half done,

    Which must supply from earnings st

    A feeble bed-rid parents want.

    Her sleep-charged eyes exemption ask

    And Holy hands take up the task;

    Uhe rod spindle ply,

    An<var>?</var>d do her earthly drudgery.

    Sleep, saintly poor one! sleep, sleep on;

    And, waking, find they labours done.

    Perce she knows it by her dreams;

    Her eye hath caught the golden gleams,

    Angelic preseestifying,

    That round her everywhere are flying;

    Ostents from which she may presume,

    That much of heaven is in the room.

    Skirting her own bright hair they run,

    And to the sunny add more sun:

    Now on that aged face they fix,

    Streami<bdi>藏书网</bdi>ng from the Crucifix;

    The flesh-cloggd spirit disabusing,

    Death-disarming sleeps infusing,

    Prelibations, foretastes high,

    And equal thoughts to live or die.

    Gardener bright from Edens bower,

    Tend with care<big></big> that lily flower;

    To its leaves and root infuse

    Heavens sunshine, Heavens dews.

    Tis a type, and tis a pledge,

    Of a ing privilege.

    Careful as that lily flower,

    This Maid must keep her precious dower;

    Live a sainted<samp>?</samp> Maid, or die

    Martyr tinity.

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