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Poem	What sort of man is coming To lie between your feet? What matter, we are but women. Wash; make your body sweet; I have cupboards of dried fragrance. I can strew the sheet. The Lord have mercy upon us. He shall love my soul as though Body were not at all, He shall love your body Untroubled by the soul, Love cram love's two divisions Yet keep his substance whole. The Lord have mercy upon us. Soul must learn a love that is proper to my breast, Limbs a Love in common With every noble beast. If soul may look and body touch, Which is the more blest? The Lord have mercy upon us.
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