Upon Wedlock, and Death of Children

A Curious Knot God made in Paradise,

      And drew it out inamled neatly Fresh.

It was the True-Love Knot, more sweet than spice

      And set with all the flowres of Graces dress.

      Its Weddens Knot, that ne're can be unti'de.

      No Alexanders Sword can it divide.

The slips here planted, gay and glorious grow:

      Unless an Hellish breath do sindge their Plumes.

Here Primrose, Cowslips, Roses, Lilies blow

      With Violets and Pinkes that voide perfumes.

      Whose beautious leaves ore laid with Hony Dew.

      And Chanting birds Cherp out sweet Musick true.

When in this Knot I planted was, my Stock

      Soon knotted, and a manly flower out brake.

And after it my branch again did knot

      Brought out another Flowre its sweet breath’d mate.

      One knot gave one tother the tothers place.

      Whence Checkling smiles fought in each others face.

But oh! a glorious hand from glory came

      Guarded with Angells, soon did Crop this flowere

Which almost tore the root up of the same

      At that unlookt for, Dolesome, darksome houre.

      In Pray're to Christ perfum'de it did ascend,

      And Angells bright did it to heaven tend.

But pausing on't, this sweet perfum'd my thought,

      Christ would in Glory have a Flowre, Choice, Prime,

And having Choice, chose this my branch forth brought.

      Lord, take't. I thanke thee, thou takst ought of mine,

      It is my pledg in glory, part of mee

      Is now in it, Lord, glorifi'de with thee.

But praying ore my branch, my branch did sprout

      And bore another manly flower, and gay

And after that another, sweet brake out,

      The which the former hand soon got away.

      But oh! the tortures, Vomit, screechings, groans,

      And six weeks fever would pierce hearts like stones.

Griefe o're doth flow: and nature fault would finde

      Were not thy Will, my Spell, Charm, Joy, and Gem:

That as I said, I say, take, Lord, they're thine.

      I piecemeale pass to Glory bright in them.

      In joy, may I sweet Flowers for Glory breed,

      Whether thou getst them green, or lets them seed.