Her soul, unsetter'd from the bands of clay,
With swift-wing'd haste to heaven takes its way;
She tow'rs the æriel space on wings divine,
While weeping friends surround the bloodless shrine:
The soften'd heart there breathes a tender sigh,
And grief sits pensive in each moisten'd eye:
Suppress the rising...
On the Virginity of the Virgin Mary & Johanna Southcott
Whateer is done to her she cannot know
And if youll ask her she will swear it so
Whether tis good or evil none's to blame
No one can take the pride no one the shame