Читать книгу Selected Works - George Herbert - Страница 38

TO write a verse or two is all the praise,

That I can raise;

Mend my estate in any wayes,

Thou shalt have more.

I go to Church; help me to wings, and I

Will thither flie;

Or, if I mount unto the skie,

I will do more.

Man is all weaknesse; there is no such thing

As Prince or King:

His arm is short; yet with a sling

He may do more.

A herb destill’d, and drunk, may dwell next doore,

On the same floore,

To a brave soul: Exalt the poore,

They can do more.

O raise me then! poore bees, that work all day,

Sting my delay,

Who have a work, as well as they,

And much, much more.