 | The Shorter Poems of Ralph Knevet |  |
355
[49] The Nosegay
If I could weepe my self into a spring,
Or a perpetuall current: then
This Metamorphosis might seeme a thing
Of merit, in the eyes of Men:
But what requitall can this bee,
To him, that did weepe blood for me?
Or a perpetuall current: then
This Metamorphosis might seeme a thing
Of merit, in the eyes of Men:
But what requitall can this bee,
To him, that did weepe blood for me?
Could I for penitentiall sigheings, vye
With the whole compasse, some might guesse,
That my contrition was a motive high,
To melt an heart, even mercyles.
But what requitall can this bee,
To him that sigh'd his last for mee?
With the whole compasse, some might guesse,
That my contrition was a motive high,
To melt an heart, even mercyles.
But what requitall can this bee,
To him that sigh'd his last for mee?
What if I should to death my self expose?
And feele a torture in each nerve:
Yet all these torments in one death must close,
And what by it could I deserve
From him, who dyeing once, did mee
From millions of deaths sett free?
And feele a torture in each nerve:
Yet all these torments in one death must close,
And what by it could I deserve
From him, who dyeing once, did mee
From millions of deaths sett free?
Lord since by acte I can effect no good,
Nor yet by suffreing, lend Thou mee,
The flowers of thy Passion, strip'd with blood,
Which I will render unto Thee,
Dew'd with my teares, hopeing by these,
(Though not to merite) yet t'appease.
Nor yet by suffreing, lend Thou mee,
The flowers of thy Passion, strip'd with blood,
Which I will render unto Thee,
Dew'd with my teares, hopeing by these,
(Though not to merite) yet t'appease.
| The Shorter Poems of Ralph Knevet | |