O Holy Ghost, whose temple I Am, but of mudde walls, and condensed dust, And being sacrilegiously Halfe wasted with youths fires, of pride and lust, Must with new stormes be weatherbeat; Double in my heart thy flame, Which let devout sad teares intend; and let (Though this glasse lanthorne, flesh, do suffer maime) Fire, Sacrifice, Priest, Altar be the same. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHOIRMASTER'S BURIAL by THOMAS HARDY MOTHER HEART by NELLIE COOLEY ALDER THE WATER CROWVOOT by WILLIAM BARNES THE CANAL by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN TO THE IMMORTAL MEMORY MEMORY OF THE FAIREST AND MOST VIRTUOUS LADY by WILLIAM BOSWORTH EARTH TO EARTH by KATHERINE HARRIS BRADLEY STANZAS by GEORGE GORDON BYRON A FAIR NYMPH SCORNING A BLACK BOY COURTING HER by JOHN CLEVELAND |