Soeur Louise de la Misericorde

• I have desired, and I have been desired
• Now dust and dying embers mock my fire
• Oh vanity of vanities, desire!
• Longing and love, pangs of a perished pleaure
• And memory a bottomless gulf of mire
• The dross of life, of love, of spent desire;

  Alas, my rose of life gone all to prickles
• Stunting my hope which might have strained up higher
• Turning my garden plot to barren mire