 | Euphrenia or the Test of Love |  |
XLIII.
Is it that thou with pitying lookRegardest all below,
And dost not seek too cunningly
Our hidden deeds to know?
Unlike that orb whose searching rays,
Darting through smallest space,
Plainly before the conscious mind
Each imperfection place.
The sun, a stern and upright judge,
With clear, all-seeing eye,
While thou seest nought that haply might
Outrage thy purity.
| Euphrenia or the Test of Love | |