KILL me not ev'ry day, Thou Lord of life; since thy one death for me Is more than all my deaths can be, Though I in broken pay Die over each hour of Methusalems stay. If all mens tears were let Into one common sewer, sea, and brine; What were they all, compar'd to thine? Wherein if they were set, They would discolour thy most bloudy sweat. Thou art my grief alone; Thou, Lord, conceal it not; and as thou art All my delight, so all my smart: Thy crosse took up in one, By way of imprest, all my future mone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ILKA BLADE O' GRASS KEPS ITS AIN DRAP O' DEW by JAMES BALLANTYNE A DEATH IN THE DESERT by ROBERT BROWNING INDEPENDENCE by HENRY DAVID THOREAU IMITATIONS OF SHAKESPEARE: A STORM by JOHN ARMSTRONG SPRING PLOWING by RUTH E. BILLEY THE NUN AT COURT by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE FIRST MORNING OF 1860 by CAROLINE CLIVE |