When men shall find thy flower, thy glory pass And thou, with careful brow sitting alone, Recieved hast this message form thy glass, That tells thee truth, and says that all is gone, Fresh shalt thou see in me the heat remaining, I that have loved thee thus before thou fadest, My faith shall wax, when thou art in thy waning. The world shall find this miracle in me, That fire can burn when all the matter's spent; Then what my faith hath been thyself shall see, And that thou wast unkind thou mayst repent. Thou mayst repent that thou hast scorned my tears, When winter snows upon thy golden hairs. -- How many loved your moments of glad grace And loved your beauty with love false or true But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you And loved the sorrows of your changing face --

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