desire

   rose

      by

         memory

            contracted

               with

                  a

                     sweet

                        thou

                           the

                              content

                                 in

                                    this

                                       grave
called

   so

      those

         poor

            pictures

               flow

                  our

                     bones

                        desperate

                           with

                              charms

                                 and

                                    past

                                       death
rich

   thriving

      and

         a

            heaven

               told

                  some

                     take

                        birth

                           accordingly

                              and

                                 mirth

                                    of

                                       suit
consider

   days

      to

         soul

            serve

               returning

                  light

                     patience

                        that

                           man’s

                              yoke

                                 is

                                    without

                                       wait
thou

   the

      radiant

         and

            the

               curtains

                  that

                     let

                        silence

                           wash

                              the

                                 glares

                                    of

                                       influence