Hast thee harsh verse, as fast as thy lame measure Will give thee leave, to him, my pain and pleasure. I have given thee, and yet thou art too weake, Feete, and a reasoning soule and tongue to speake. Plead for me, and so by thine and my labour I am thy Creator, thou my Saviour. Tell him, all questions, which men have defended Both of the place and paines of hell, are ended; And 'tis decreed our hell is but privation Of him, at least in this earths habitation: And 'tis where I am, where in every street Infections follow, overtake, and meete: Live I or die, by you my love is sent, And you'are my pawnes, or else my Testament. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAMP OF LIFE by AMY LOWELL THE SONG OF THE SMOKE by WILLIAM EDWARD BURGHARDT DU BOIS JEWISH HYMN IN BABYLON by HENRY HART MILMAN SONNET: ENGLAND by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH SEEING A STRANGE WOMAN DEAD by A. G. BECKMANN THE ARCIERI OF MICHELANGELO by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |