England's Antiphon

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Lord, I am like to mistletoe,
Which has no root, and cannot grow Or prosper, but by that same tree
It clings about: so I by thee.
What need I then to fear at all
So long as I about thee crawl?
But if that tree should fall and die, Tumble shall heaven, and down will I.

Here are now a few chosen from many that--to borrow a term from Crashaw--might be called

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