Till he becomes a bleeding youth
And She becomes a Virgin bright
Then he rends up his Manacles
And binds her down for his Delight
He plants himself in all her Nerves
Just as a Husbandman his mould
And She becomes his dwelling place
And Garden fruitful Seventy fold
An Aged Shadow soon he fades
Wandring round an Earthly Cot
Full filled all with gems & gold
Which he by industry had got
And these are the gems of the Human Soul
The rubies & pearls of a lovesick eye
The countless gold of the akeing heart
The martyrs groan & the lovers sigh
They are his meat they are his drink
He feeds the Beggar & the Poor
And the way faring Traveller
For ever open is his door
His grief is their eternal joy
They make the roofs & walls to ring
Till from the fire on the hearth
A little Female Babe does spring
