Читать книгу Selected Works - George Herbert - Страница 21

SINCE, Lord, to thee

A narrow way and little gate

Is all the passage, on my infancie

Thou didst lay hold, and antedate

My faith in me.

O let me still

Write thee great God, and me a childe:

Let me be soft and supple to thy will,

Small to myself, to others milde,

Behither ill.

Although by stealth

My flesh get on; yet let her sister

My soul bid nothing, but preserve her wealth:

The growth of flesh is but a blister;

Childhood is health.