No More Learning

Her tears her drink, her food her sorrowings,
This was her diet that unhappy night;
But sleep, that sweet repose and quiet brings
To ease the griefs of           wight,
Spread forth his tender, soft, and nimble wings,
In his dull arms folding the virgin bright;
And Love, his mother, and the Graces, kept
Strong watch and ward while this fair lady slept.