Zealously my Muse doth salute all thee,
Enquiring of that mistique trinitee
Whereof thou,'and all to whom heavens do infuse
Like fyer, are made; thy body, mind, and Muse.
Dost thou recover sicknes, or prevent? 5
Or is thy Mind travail'd with discontent?
Or art thou parted from the world and mee,
In a good skorn of the worlds vanitee?
Or is thy devout Muse retyr'd to sing
Vpon her tender Elegiaque string? 10
Our Minds part not, joyne then thy Muse with myne,
For myne is barren thus devorc'd from thyne.
[To M^r R. W. _A23_, _W:_ _first printed in Gosse's_ Life and
Letters of John Donne, _&c._, 1899]
[1 thee,] thee _W_]