On the Death of the young and pious Ladie Mrs C. P

So yong and ripe in judgement? fit for heaven
A Saint shee was on earth, before eleven.
What Virtue was there lodg'd in this smal world,
Whose soul grew faster then the body could?
Sins shee had none, but what curst Nature gave,
Yet e'r she knew't, shee long'd this world to leave,
Where but new enter'd, she with pious rage
Her Prologue spoke, doth bravely quit the stage.
Oh happy growth, that in so short a time,
This early blossome thus to heav'n could climb!