| SEE how the Orient Dew, | |
| Shed from the Bosom of the Morn | |
| Into the blowing Roses, | |
| Yet careless of its Mansion new; | |
| For the clear Region where 'twas born | 5 |
| Round in its self incloses: | |
| And in its little Globes Extent, | |
| Frames as it can its native Element. | |
| How it the purple flow'r does slight, | |
| Scarce touching where it lyes, | 10 |
| But gazing back upon the Skies, | |
| Shines with a mournful Light; | |
| Like its own Tear, | |
| Because so long divided from the Sphear. | |
| Restless it roules and unsecure, | 15 |
| Trembling lest it grow impure: | |
| Till the warm Sun pitty it's Pain, | |
| And to the Skies exhale it back again. | |
| So the Soul, that Drop, that Ray | |
| Of the clear Fountain of Eternal Day, | 20 |
| Could it within the humane flow'r be seen, | |
| Remembring still its former height, | |
| Shuns the sweat leaves and blossoms green; | |
| And, recollecting its own Light, | |
| Does, in its pure and circling thoughts, express | 25 |
| The greater Heaven in an Heaven less. | |
| In how coy a Figure wound, | |
| Every way it turns away: | |
| So the World excluding round, | |
| Yet receiving in the Day. | 30 |
| Dark beneath, but bright above: | |
| Here disdaining, there in Love. | |
| How loose and easie hence to go: | |
| How girt and ready to ascend. | |
| Moving but on a point below, | 35 |
| It all about does upwards bend. | |
| Such did the Manna's sacred Dew destil; | |
| White, and intire, though congeal'd and chill. | |
| Congeal'd on Earth: but does, dissolving, run | |
| Into the Glories of th' Almighty Sun. | 40 |
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