As if the tidings were the things,

My very joys themselves, my foreign treasure,

Or else did bear them on their wings;

With so much joy they came, with so much pleasure.

My soul stood at the gate

To recreate

Itself with bliss: and to

Be pleased with speed. A fuller view

It fain would take

Yet journeys back would make

Unto my heart: as if twould fain

Go out to meet, yet stay within

To fit a place, to entertain,

And bring the tidings in.