SOUL Long lookt for Sir! Happy, right Happy Saint. I long to lay before you my Complaint: And gain your Counsill: but you're strange: and I Through backwardness lost opportunity. SAINT How is't good Sir: methinks I finde there dart Some pleasant Hopes of you within my heart. What is your Rantery declinde, foregone? Your looks are like the Earth you Tread upon. SOUL Its true: I do, and well may look so, too For worse than mee the world did never show. My sins are dide in grain: all Grace I lack. This doth my Soul on tenterhooks enwrack. Wherefore I Counsill Crave touching my sin My Want of Grace. Temptations too within. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WE CAN'T WRITE OURSELVES INTO ETERNAL LIFE by DAVID IGNATOW FAITH by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE TEMPTRESS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON ON A PALMETTO by SIDNEY LANIER HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 12 by EZRA POUND |