Only a Shrine, but Mine— I made the Taper shine— Madonna dim, to whom all Feet may come, Regard a Nun—
Thou knowest every Woe— Needless to tell thee—so— But can’st thou do The Grace next to it—heal? That looks a harder skill to us— Still—just as easy, if it be thy Will To thee—Grant me— Thou knowest, though, so Why tell thee?
