This Grace Vouchsase Me For The Rhymes I Write Poem by William Canton
This Grace Vouchsase Me For The Rhymes I Write
This grace vouchsase me for the rhymes I write.
If any last, nor perish quick and quite,
Lord, let them be
My little images, to stand for me
When I may stand no longer in Thy sight:
Like those old statues of the King who said,
“Carve me in that which needs nor sleep nor bread;
Let diorite pray,
A King of stone, for this poor King of clay
Who wearies often and must soon be dead!”
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4/19/2024 11:55:33 AM # 1.0.0.1119
