The next retains a few lines from a sonnet of mine, which you once
remarked had no "body of thought" in it. I agree with you, but have
preserved a part of it, and it runs thus. I flatter myself you will like
it.

A timid grace sits trembling in her Eye,
As both to meet the rudeness of men's sight,
Yet shedding a delicious lunar light,
That steeps in kind oblivious extacy
The care-craz'd mind, like some still melody;
Speaking most plain the thoughts which do possess
Her gentle sprite, peace and meek quietness,
And innocent loves,[*] and maiden purity.
A look whereof might heal the cruel smart
Of changed friends, or fortune's wrongs unkind;
Might to sweet deeds of mercy move the heart
Of him, who hates his brethren of mankind.
Turned are those beams from me, who fondly yet
Past joys, vain loves, and buried hopes regret.

[Footnote: Cowley uses this phrase with a somewhat different meaning: I
meant loves of relatives friends &c.]

The next and last I value most of all. 'Twas composed close upon the
heels of the last in that very wood I had in mind when I wrote "Methinks
how dainty sweet."

We were two pretty babes, the youngest she,
The youngest and the loveliest far, I ween,