LET forrain nations of their language boast, What fine varietie each tongue affords: I like our language, as our men and coast; Who cannot dresse it well, want wit, not words. How neatly do we give one onely name To parents issue and the sunnes bright starre. A sonne is light and fruit; a fruitfull flame, Chasing the fathers dimnesse; carri'd far From the first man in th' East, to fresh and new Western discov'ries of posteritie. So, in one word, our Lords humilitie We turn upon him in a sense most true; For what Christ once in humblenesse began, We him in glorie call, The Sonne of Man. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOVE'S MIRACLE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON COMIN' THRO' THE RYE by ROBERT BURNS TO RUSSIA by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER MUSIC; AND THE SAVAGE BREAST by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS SHADOWS OF RECOLLECTION by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |