 | Poems |  |
91
An other.
[The purest Soule that e're was sent]
The purest Soule that e're was sentInto a clayie tenement
Inform'd this dust, but the weake mold
Could the great guest no longer hold,
The substance was too pure, the flame
Too glorious that thither came,
Ten thousand Cupids brought along
A Grace on each wing, that did throng
For place there, till they all opprest
The seat in which they sought to rest;
So the faire Modell broke, for want
Of roome to lodge th'Inhabitant.
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