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The Marigold by George Withers

When , with a serious musing, I behold⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

The gratefull, and obsequious Marigold,⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

How duely, ev'ry morning, she displayes⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Her open breast, when Titan spreads his Rayes;⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

How she observes him in his daily walke,⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Still bending towards him, her tender stalke;⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

How, when he downe declines, she droopes and mournes,⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Bedew'd (as 'twere) with teares, till he returnes;⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

And, how she vailes her Flow'rs , when he is gone,⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

As if she scorned to be looked on⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

By an inferiour Eye ; or, did contemne⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

To wayt upon a meaner Light , than Him.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

When this I meditate, me-thinkes, the Flowers⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Have spirits , farre more generous, than ours;⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

And, give us faire Examples, to despise⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

The servile Fawnings, and Idolatries,⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Wherewith we court these earthly things below,⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Which merit not the service we bestow.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

But, oh my God! though groveling I appeare⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Upon the Ground, (and have a rooting here,⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Which hales me downwards) yet in my desire,⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

To that, which is above mee, I aspire:⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

And, all my best Affections I professe⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

To Him , that is the Sunne of Righteousnesse.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Oh! keepe the Morning of his Incarnation,⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

The burning Noone tide of his bitter Passion,⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

The Night of his Descending , and the Height⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Of his Ascension , ever in my sight:⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

That imitating him, in what I may,⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

I never follow an inferiour Way.⠀