The poem
Since she whom I loved hath paid her last debt To Nature, and to hers, and my good is dead, And her soul early into heaven ravished, Wholly on heavenly things my mind is set. here the admiring her my mind did whet To seek thee, God; so streams do show the head; But though I have found thee, and thou my thirst hast fed, a holy thristy dropsy melts me yet. But why should I beg more love, whenas thou Dost woo my soul, for hers offering all thine: And dost not only fear lest I allow My love to saints and angels, things divine, but in they tender jealousy dost doubt lest the world, flesh, yea, devil put thee out.