Deer God, If thy smart Rod Here did not make me sorrie, I sho'd not be With Thine, or Thee, In Thy eternall Glorie. But since Thou didst convince My sinnes, by gently striking; Add still to those First stripes, new blowes, According to Thy liking. Feare me, Or scourging teare me; That thus from vices driven, I may from Hell Flie up, to dwell With Thee, and Thine in Heaven. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UTOPIA by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON GENEVIEVE AND ALEXANDRA (2) by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON MY GARDEN by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN FAREWELL TO MALTA by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE SACK OF BALTIMORE by THOMAS OSBORNE DAVIS THE CAGED GOLDFINCH by THOMAS HARDY |