The Temple: Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations/Deniall
¶ Deniall.
WHen my devotions could not pierceThy silent eares;Then was my heart broken, as was my verse:My breast was full of fearsAnd disorder:
My bent thoughts, like a brittle bow,Did flie asunder:Each took his way; some would to pleasures go,Some to the warres and thunderOf alarms.
As good go any where, they say,As to benummeBoth knees and heart, in crying night and day,Come, come, my God, O come!But no hearing.
O that thou shouldst give dust a tongueTo crie to thee,And then not heare it crying! all day longMy heart was in my knee,But no hearing.
Therefore my soul lay out of sight,Untun'd, unstrung:My feeble spirit, unable to look right,Like a nipt blossome, hungDiscontented.
O cheer and tune my heartlesse breast,Deferre no time;That so thy favours granting my request,They and my minde may chime,And mend my ryme.