MY Joy, my Life, my Crown! My heart was meaning all the day, Somewhat it fain would say; And still it runneth, mutt'ring, up and down, With only this, My Joy, my Life, my Crown! Yet slight not these few words; If truly said, they may take part Among the best in art. The finenesse which a hymne or psalme affords, Is, when the soul unto the lines accords. He who craves all the minde, And all the soul, and strength, and time, If the words onely ryme, Justly complains, that somewhat is behinde To make his verse, or write a hymne in kinde. Whereas if th' heart be moved, Although the verse be somewhat scant, God doth supplie the want. As when th' heart says, (sighing to be approved,) O, could I love! and stops; God writeth, Loved. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EVENING HYMN by REGINALD HEBER SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 90 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI SONNET FOR A PICTURE by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE THE STORY OF FIORDISPINA, FR. ORLANDO FURIOSO by LUDOVICO (LODOVICO) ARIOSTO SHE BEGINING TO STUDY PHISICK ... FALLS INTO A DEGRESSION ON ANATOMY by JANE BARKER THEODORE ROOSEVELT by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |