@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...IN ANSWER TO MR. POPE by ANNE FINCH THE MAID'S TRAGEDY by FRANCIS BEAUMONT RESURRECTION SONG by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES INDISPENSABLE by BERTON BRALEY THE MEASURE, HYMN 4 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |