On Lucy, Countess of Bedford

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The Heart of a Woman
And The Stars
I Want to Die While You Love Me
The Suppliant
Welt
Youth
Eucalyptus Trees
When I Behold the Greatest
Wonder and Joy
Doubt
Her Eyes
A Last Prayer
September
Tides
Aeglamour's Soliloquy
The Hour-Glass
How He Saw Her
Hymn to Cynthia
Hymn to the Belly
On Lucy, Countess of Bedford

Price Pfister This morning, timely rapt with holy fire,
I thought to form unto my jealous Muse
What kind of creature I could most desire,
To honour, serve, and love, as poets use.
I meant to make her fair and free and wise,
Of greatest blood, and yet more good than great;
I meant the day-star should not brighter rise,

Nor lend like influence from his lucent seat.
I meant she should be courteous, facile, sweet,
Hating that solemn vice of greatness, pride;
I meant each softest virtue there should meet,
Fit in that softer bosom to reside.
Only a learned and a manly soul
I purposed her; that should, with even powers,
The rock, the spindle, and the shears control
Of Destiny, and spin her own free hours.
Such when I meant to feign, and wished to see,
My Muse bade 'Bedford' write, and that was she.