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But let me draw a vail over the seen, and speak of her no more its 'sfishant for the public to know, that her name was Miss Montmorency, and we lived in the New Cut. My poor mother died one morning, Hev'n bless her! and I was left alone in this wide wicked wuld, without so much money as would buy me a penny roal for my brexfast.
In a later passage of the same poem Traherne expresses this by saying: 'Tis not the Object, but the Light That maketh Hev'n. ... 'The visiv Rays are Beams of Light indeed, Refined, subtil, piercing, quick and pure; And as they do the sprightly winds exceed, Are worthy longer to endure; They far out-shoot the Reach of Grosser Air, With which such Excellence may not compare.
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