The beautiful in nature is the unmarred result of God's first creative or forming will
But no. Too soon I voun' my charm abroke.
Noo comely soul in white like her—
Noo soul a-steppen light like her—
An' nwone o' comely height like her—
Went by; but all my grief agean awoke.
Since I do miss your vaïce an’ feäce
In praÿer at eventide,
I’ll praÿ wi’ woone said vaïce vor greäce
To goo where you do bide;
