LORD, how I am all ague, when I seek What I have treasur'd in my memorie! Since, if my soul make even with the week, Each seventh note by right is due to thee. I finde there quarries of pil'd vanities, But shreds of holinesse, that dare not venture To shew their face, since crosse to thy decrees: There the circumference earth is, heav'n the centre. In so much dregs the quintessence is small: The spirit and good extract of my heart Comes to about the many hundredth part. Yet, Lord, restore thine image, heare my call: And though my hard heart scarce to thee can grone, Remember that thou once didst write in stone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOVE SONGS TO JOANNES by MINA LOY MANSONG: CHORAL by MARCUS ADENEY THE OLD FERRYMAN by ANTIPHILUS OF BYZANTIUM EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 16. CUPID HIMSELF STUNG by PHILIP AYRES LILIES: 3 by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) PHILEMON by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS THE LORDS' MASQUE: CHORUS (2) by THOMAS CAMPION ON THE MARRIAGE OF THOMAS KILLIGREW & CECILIA CROFTS: MORNING STORMY by THOMAS CAREW |