Pardon me God, (once more I Thee intreat) That I have plac'd Thee in so meane a seat, Where round about Thou seest but all things vaine, Uncircumcis'd, unseason'd, and prophane. But as Heavens publike and immortall Eye Looks on the filth, but is not soil'd thereby; So Thou, my God, may'st on this impure look, But take no tincture from my sinfull Book: Let but one beame of Glory on it shine, And that will make me, and my Work divine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BAY FIGHT by HENRY HOWARD BROWNELL LINES ON HEARING THE ORGAN by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY LIFE'S MIRROR by MARY AINGE DE VERE MENAPHON: SEPHESTIA'S [CRADLE] SONG TO HER CHILD by ROBERT GREENE A CHRISTMAS CAROL (1) by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI TO A SNOWFLAKE by FRANCIS THOMPSON |