Classic Poem

I sent a Sigh unto my Blest ones Eare,
Which lost it's way, and never did come there;
I hastned after, lest some other Fair
Should mildly entertain this travelling Aire:
Each flowry Garden I did search, for fear
It might mistake a Lilly for her Eare;
And having there took lodging, might still dwell
Hous'd in the Concave of a Christall Bell.
At last, one frosty morning I did spy
This subtile Wand'rer journeying in the Sky;
At sight of me it trembled, then drew neer,
Then grieving fell, and dropt into a Tear:
I bore it to my Saint, and pray'd her take
This new born Of-spring for the Master's sake:
She took it, and prefer'd it to her Eare,
And now it hears each thing that's whisper'd there.
O how I envy Grief, when that I see
My Sorrow makes a Gem, more blest than me!
Yet Little Pendant, Porter to the Eare,
Let not my Rivall have admittance there;
But if by chance a mild access he gain,
Upon her tipp inflict a gentle pain
Only for Admonition: So when she
Gives eare to him, at least Shee'l think of Me.