Kind are her answers, But her performance keeps no day; Breaks time, as dancers. From their own Music when they stray.
There is a garden in her eyes, where roses and white lilies flow.
From heav'nly thoughts all true delight doth spring.
Never weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore.
Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow.
Let now the chimneys blaze And cups o'erflow with wine; Let well-tuned words amaze With harmony divine.