John Oldham (1653–1683)

EARTH was unworthy such a prize as this,

Only a while Heav’n let us share the bliss;

In vain her stay with fruitless tears we’d woo,

In vain we’d court, when that our rival grew.

Thanks, ye kind Powers! who did so long dispense

(Since you so wished her) with her absence thence:

We now resign, to you alone we grant

The sweet monopoly of such a saint;

So pure a saint. I scarce dare call her so,

For fear to wrong her with a name too low;

Such a seraphic brightness in her shined,

I hardly can believe her womankind.