TO TERZAH
Whate'er is born of mortal birth
Must be consumed with the
earth,
To rise from generation free:
Then what have I to do with
thee?
The sexes sprang from shame and pride,
Blown in the morn, in evening
died;
But mercy changed death into sleep;
The sexes rose to work and
weep.
Thou, mother of my mortal part,
With cruelty didst mould my
heart,
And with false self-deceiving tears
Didst bind my nostrils, eyes,
and ears,
Didst close my tongue in senseless clay,
And me to mortal
life betray.
The death of Jesus set me free:
Then what have I to do with
thee?
TO TERZAH
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