With golden Censers, and with Incense, here, Before Thy Virgin-Altar I appeare, To pay Thee that I owe, since what I see In, or without; all, all belongs to Thee: Where shall I now begin to make, for one Least loane of Thine, half Restitution? Alas! I cannot pay a jot; therefore I'le kisse the Tally, and confesse the score. Ten thousand Talents lent me, Thou dost write: 'Tis true, my God; but I can't pay one mite. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BALLAD OF CHRISTMAS by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE THE OLD MAN DREAMS by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES ALASKA by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER SENEX TO MATT. PRIOR by JAMES KENNETH STEPHEN FIRST CYCLE OF LOVE POEMS: 4 by GEORGE BARKER YULE-SONG: A MEMORY by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE THE SOUL'S TRAVELLING by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |