I THIRST, but not as once I did, The vain delights of earth to share; Thy wounds, Emmanuel, all forbid That I should seek my pleasures there. It was the sight of thy dear cross First weaned my soul from earthly things; And taught me to esteem as dross The mirth of fools and pomp of kings. I want that grace that springs from thee, That quickens all things where it flows, And makes a wretched thorn like me Bloom as the myrtle, or the rose. Dear fountain of delight unknown! No longer sink below the brim; But overflow, and pour me down A living and life-giving stream; For sure of all the plants that share The notice of thy Father's eye, None proves less grateful to his care, Or yields him meaner fruit than I. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHARGE OF THE BREAD BRIGADE by EZRA POUND ON THIS DAY I COMPLETE MY THIRTY-SIXTH YEAR by GEORGE GORDON BYRON LITANY by ROBERT GRANT (1785-1838) COMPLAINT OF THE ABSENCE OF HER LOVER BEING UPON THE SEA by HENRY HOWARD A FIESOLAN IDYL by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR TO A GARDEN IN APRIL by WALTER CONRAD ARENSBERG THE PASQUE FLOWER by STELLA PFEIFFER BAISCH |