@3W@1Hiles @3GREENHAM@1 writeth of the Sabboths rest, His soule inioyes that which his pen exprest: His worke inioyes not what it selfe doth say, For it shall neuer finde one resting day. A thousand hands shall tosse each page and line, Which shall be scanned by a thousand eyne. That Sabboths rest, or this Sabboths vnrest, Hard is to say whether is the happiest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AT THE CHURCH DOOR by GEORGE SANTAYANA AUGUST MOONRISE by SARA TEASDALE ASPATIA'S SONG, FR. THE MAID'S TRAEGDY by JOHN FLETCHER THE HOMECOMING by THOMAS HARDY CRITICS AND CONNOISSEURS by MARIANNE MOORE PROMETHEUS BOUND: THE OVERTHROW OF ZEUS by AESCHYLUS |