The Temple: Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations/Joseph's Coat
¶ Josephs coat.
Wounded I sing, tormented I indite,Thrown down I fall into a bed, and rest:Sorrow hath chang'd its note: such is his will,Who changeth all things, as him pleaseth best.For well he knows, if but one grief and smartAmong my many had his full career,Sure it would carrie with it ev'n my heart,And both would runne untill they found a biereTo fetch the bodie; both being due to grief.But he hath spoil'd the race, and giv'n to anguishOne of Joyes coats, ticing it with reliefTo linger in me, and together languish.I live to shew his power, who once did bringMy joyes to weep, and now my griefs to sing.