The Eclipse
WHITHER, O whither didst Thou fly,When I did grieve Thine holy eye?When Thou didst mourn to see me lost,And all Thy care and counsels crossed?O do not grieve, where’er Thou art!Thy grief is an undoing smart,Which doth not only pain, but breakMy heart, and makes me blush to speak.Thy anger I could kiss, and will;But O Thy grief, Thy grief, doth kill!