MY Joy, my Life, my Crown! My heart was meaning all the day, Somewhat it fain would say; And still it runneth, mutt'ring, up and down, With only this, My Joy, my Life, my Crown! Yet slight not these few words; If truly said, they may take part Among the best in art. The finenesse which a hymne or psalme affords, Is, when the soul unto the lines accords. He who craves all the minde, And all the soul, and strength, and time, If the words onely ryme, Justly complains, that somewhat is behinde To make his verse, or write a hymne in kinde. Whereas if th' heart be moved, Although the verse be somewhat scant, God doth supplie the want. As when th' heart says, (sighing to be approved,) O, could I love! and stops; God writeth, Loved. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO J. D. H. (KILLED AT SURREY C. H., OCTOBER, 1866) by SIDNEY LANIER MATER AMABILIS by EMMA LAZARUS ON A YOUNG LADY'S SIXTH ANNIVERSARY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: EUGENIA TODD by EDGAR LEE MASTERS REINFORCEMENTS by MARIANNE MOORE A PSALM OF TRAVEL by GEORGE SANTAYANA |