Spirit of grace and beauty,
Whom men so much miscall:
Maidenly, modest duty,
I cry thee fair befall!
Pity for them that shun thee,
Sorrow for them that hate,
Glory, hath any won thee
To dwell in high estate!
But rather thou delightest
To walk in humble ways,
Keeping thy favour brightest
Uncrown'd by foolish praise;
In such retirement dwelling,
Where, hath the worldling been,
He straight returneth telling
Of sights that he hath seen,
Of simple men and truest
Faces of girl and boy;
The souls whom thou enduest
With gentle peace and joy.
Fair from my song befall thee,
Spirit of beauty and grace!
Men that so much miscall thee
Have never seen thy face.