My Glorious Lord thy work upon my hand A work so greate and doth so Ample grow Too larg to be by my Souls limits spand. Lord let me to thy Angell Palace goe To borrow thence Angelick Organs bright To play thy praises with these pipes aright. You Holy Angells lend yee mee your Skill. Your Organs set and fill them up well stuft With Christs rich praises whose lips do distill Upon his Spouse such ravishing dews to gust With Silver Metaphors and Tropes bedight. How fair, how pleasant art, Love, for delight? Which Rhetorick of thine my Lord descry Such influences from thy Spouses face That do upon me run and raise thy Joy Above my narrow Fancy to uncase. But yet demands my praise so high, so much The which my narrow pipe can neer tune such. Hence I come to your doors bright Starrs on high And beg you to imply your pipes herein. Winde musick makes the Sweetest Melody. I'le with my little pipe thy praises sing. Accept I pray and what for this I borrow, I'le pay thee more when rise on heavens morrow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COUNTRY SUMMER by LEONIE ADAMS OF THE THEME OF LOVE by MARGARET LUCAS CAVENDISH ALONE (2) by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE THE MILL by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON OF A CONTENTED MIND [OR, SPIRIT] by THOMAS VAUX |