POORE nation, whose sweet sap and juice Our cyens have purloined, and left you drie; Whose streams we got by the apostles sluce, And use in baptisme, while ye pine and die: Who, by not keeping once, became a debter; And now, by keeping, lose the letter: Oh that my prayers! mine, alas! Oh that some angel might a trumpet sound; At which the church, falling upon her face, Should crie so loud, untill the trump were drown'd; And, by that crie, of her deare Lord obtain, That your sweet sap might come again! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BENCH OF BOORS by HERMAN MELVILLE THE DYING SWAN by THOMAS STURGE MOORE HOPEFULLY WAITING by ANSON DAVIES FITZ RANDOLPH THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 23. LOVE'S BAUBLES by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI PSALM 21. DOMINE IN VIRTUTE by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE ENTERTAINMENT TO PHYLLIS by CHARLES COTTON |