O when my God, my glory brings His white and holy train, Unto those clear and living @3springs@1, Where comes no @3stain@1! Where all is @3light@1, and @3flowers@1, and @3fruit@1, And @3joy@1, and @3rest@1, Make me amongst them ('tis my suit!) The last one, and the least. And when they all are fed, and have Drunk of thy living stream, Bid thy poor Ass (with tears I crave!) Drink after them. Thy love claims highest thanks, my sin The lowest pitch: But if he pays, who @3loves much@1, then Thou hast made beggars rich. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS TO LAURA IN LIFE: 109 by PETRARCH A PRELUDE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER by JOANNA BAILLIE MY GARDEN by CHAIM NACHMAN BIALIK ASOLANDO: THE BEAN-FEAST by ROBERT BROWNING ODE TO A LADY WHOSE LOVER WAS KILLED BY A BALL by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |