To Tirzah

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 sprung from Shame & Pride, Blow'd in the morn, in evening died; But Mercy chang'd Death into Sleep; The Sexes rose to work & weep. Thou, Mother of my Mortal part, With cruelty didst mould my Heart, And with false self-deceiving tears Didst bind my Nostrils, Eyes, & 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?