Now Must I These Three Praise, Three Women That Have Wrought What Joy Is In My Days; One That No Passing Thought, Nor Those Unpassing Cares, No, Not In These Fifteen Many Times Troubled Years, Could Ever Come Between Heart And Delighted Heart; And One Because Her Hand Had Strength That Could Unbind What None Can Understand, What None Can Have And Thrive, Youth'S Dreamy Load, Till She So Changed Me That I Live Labouring In Ecstasy. And What Of Her That Took All Till My Youth Was Gone With Scarce A Pitying Look? How Could I Praise That One? When Day Begins To Break I Count My Good And Bad, Being Wakeful For Her Sake, Remembering What She Had, What Eagle Look Still Shows, While Up From My Heart'S Root So Great A Sweetness Flows I Shake From Head To Foot.