Miracle

Behold a wonder here —
Love hath receiv’d his sight,
Which many hundred years
Hath not beheld the light.
Such beams infused be By Cynthia in his eyes,
At first have made him see
And then have made him wise.
Love now no more will weep
For them that laugh the while,
Nor wake for them that sleep,
Nor sigh for them that smile.
So pow’rful is the beauty
That Love doth now behold,
As love is turn’d to duty
That’s neither blind nor bold.
Thus beauty shows her might
To be of double kind,
In giving Love his sight
And striking Folly blind.