An Epitaph on Mistris Anne Knyveton

Here hidden lyes deare Treasure under ground,
Blest Innocence, with budding Vertue crown'd,
That, like a Taper on some Altar fir'd,
Shone fairely forth, and sweetly so expir'd,
Expecting here in darkesome shade of night,
A rising Sunne, that brings eternall light.