Hast thee harsh verse, as fast as thy lame measure Will give thee leave, to him, my pain and pleasure. I have given thee, and yet thou art too weake, Feete, and a reasoning soule and tongue to speake. Plead for me, and so by thine and my labour I am thy Creator, thou my Saviour. Tell him, all questions, which men have defended Both of the place and paines of hell, are ended; And 'tis decreed our hell is but privation Of him, at least in this earths habitation: And 'tis where I am, where in every street Infections follow, overtake, and meete: Live I or die, by you my love is sent, And you'are my pawnes, or else my Testament. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SWAN AND THE GOOSE by AESOP THE OLD CHURCHYARD OF BONCHURCH by PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON THE LITTLE OLD WOMEN; TO VICTOR HUGO by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE POUR FORTH THE WINE! by JOHN STUART BLACKIE TO HESTER ON THE STAIR by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |