Classic Poem

My Looking-Glass

Foe to ill faces for thy truth, be free
And shaddowe back my soules deformety
Thou'lt pleas me better far than thar which can
Return a Raven white, and black a swan:
For if thou shouldst like to thy self rubd ore
Guive all for Moat-less that come thee before
I might suspect (that, justly) whilst thou'rt sett
To me'n Diameter for Counterfett
Soe ugly black my contience doth present
My guilts complexions night Firmament
Not Tincelld with one starr of Grace, or spark
Of goodnes, but sin-clouded-ore and dark
How shall I then presume to claime a right
To any dawne of mercy and of light
Unless my Faith guive credet for the loan
And soe God's Sonn lend fro'th'reflection
Of His bright merits soe much power to say
My Pardon's seald and night is turnd to day
And then and not before I may seem drest
When His Great Favour, my Great Sin's confest.