To write a verse or two is all the praise That I can raise; Mend my estate in any wayes, Thou shalt have more. I so to church; help me to wings, and I Will thither flie; Or, if I mount unto the skie, I will do more. Man is all weaknesse: there is no such thing As Prince or King: His arm is short; yet with a sling He may do more. A herb destilled, and drunk, may dwell nest doore, On the same floore, To a brave soul Exalt the poore, They can do more. O, raise me then! poore bees, that work all day, Sting my delay, Who have a work, as well as they, And much, much more. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOOD-BYE DOROTHY GAYLE: OVER THE MACKINAC by KAREN SWENSON DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: SAILORS' [OR MARINERS'] SONG by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE FUNERAL by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE EPISTLE TO MISS TERESA BLOUNT, ON HER LEAVING THE TOWN by ALEXANDER POPE SONNET: 102 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE |