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............