AH yes, I know you well, a sojourner1
At the hearth2;
I know right well the marriage ring you wear,
And what it's worth.
The angels came to Abraham, and they stayed
In his house awhile;
So you to mine, I imagine; yes, happily
Condescend to be vile3.
I see you all the time, you bird-blithe4, lovely
Angel in disguise.
I see right well how I ought to be grateful,
Smitten with reverent5 surprise.
Listen, I have no use
For so rare a visit;
Mine is a common devil's
Requisite.
Rise up and go, I have no use for you
And your blithe, glad mien6.
No angels here, for me no goddesses,
Nor any Queen.
Put ashes on your head, put sackcloth on
And learn to serve.
You have fed me with your sweetness, now I am sick,
As I deserve.
Queens, ladies, angels, women rare,
I have had enough.
Put sackcloth on, be crowned with powdery ash,
Be common stuff.
And serve now wom............