Classic Poem

You were our mother once most bright and fair
Admir'd and lov'd by every eye:
No earthly beauty could with you compare;
But now y' are of another dye.

We ne're beheld a Moor more black then you
Are by this unexpected change;
We hardly can believe it to be true,
The sight so uncouth is and strange.

You are become a Widow desolate,
You have no suitors as before;
We are asham'd to own you, since of late
Most men have cast you out of door.

Church . Despise me not, although that black I am,
The reason that you shall understand;
From an extreme hot Country late I came,
From that Egyptian sun-burnt Land.

There I was scorcht, and lost my beauty there,
By lying long amongst the pots;
And brick-kilns heavy burthens I did bear;
Thus I contracted all my spots.

Yet be not you asham'd of me, for I,
Though black without, am fair within;
My soul is purged from impurity,
And grace hath now excluded sin.

It was the plot of my Beloved, who
Seeing me proud, and wanton grow
Of my unparalell'd beauty, serv'd me so;
To keep me up he brought me low.

He took away the lustre of my face,
But gave another to my mind;
And now I do account it no disgrace,
Since this the better far I find.

'Tis not the fairness of the faee but soul,
Which doth invite my Lord to love:
If he perceive the inward parts be foul,
The outward not at all Him move.

No matter though I black to others seem,
Whilst I am comely in His eyes;
If He me worthy of His love esteem,
I care not who doth me despise,

When. He shall find it fit to wash off all
My black, and outward grace restore,
Like the sun after an eclipse, I shall
Shine brighter then I did before.