My God! looke on me with thine eye Of pittie, not of scrutinie; For if thou dost, thou then shalt see Nothing but loathsome sores in mee. O then! for mercies sake, behold These my irruptions manifold; And heale me with thy looke, or touch: But if thou wilt not deigne so much, Because I'me odious in thy sight, Speak but the word, and cure me quite. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MARIA WENTWORTH by THOMAS CAREW A VAGABOND SONG by BLISS CARMAN CORIDON'S SONG (IN ISAAK WALTON'S 'COMPLEAT ANGLER') by JOHN CHALKHILL ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 54 by PHILIP SIDNEY THE SUN'S TRAVELS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON GOD'S DETERMINATIONS: THE JOY OF CHURCH FELLOWSHIP RIGHTLY ATTENDED by EDWARD TAYLOR DESTINY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 33 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |