I CANNOT skill of these thy ways: Lord, thou didst make me, yet thou woundest me: Lord, thou dost wound me, yet thou dost relieve me: Lord, thou relievest, yet I die by thee: Lord, thou dost kill me, yet thou dost reprieve me. But, when I mark my life and praise, Thy justice me most fitly payes: For I do praise thee, yet I praise thee not: My prayers mean thee, yet my prayers stray: I would do well, yet sinne the hand hath got: My soul doth love thee, yet it loves delay. I cannot skill of these my ways. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JOHN BURNS OF GETTYSBURG by FRANCIS BRET HARTE THE HARLEM DANCER by CLAUDE MCKAY THE VISION OF SIN by ALFRED TENNYSON THE SPOUSE TO THE BELOVED by WILLIAM BALDWIN A POSTSCRIPT by BERNARD BARTON THE SHEPHERD'S PIPE: FIRST ECLOGUE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |