Storms Poems: 155 / 500

Man's Civil War

Rating: 2.6

MY hovering thoughts would fly to heaven
And quiet nestle in the sky,
Fain would my ship in Virtue's shore
Without remove at anchor lie.

But mounting thoughts are haled down
With heavy poise of mortal load,
And blustring storms deny my ship
In Virtue's haven secure abode.

When inward eye to heavenly sights
Doth draw my longing heart's desire,
The world with jesses of delights
Would to her perch my thoughts retire,

Fon Fancy trains to Pleasure's lure,
Though Reason stiffly do repine;
Though Wisdom woo me to the saint,
Yet Sense would win me to the shrine.

Where Reason loathes, there Fancy loves,
And overrules the captive will;
Foes senses are to Virtue's lore,
They draw the wit their wish to fill.

Need craves consent of soul to sense,
Yet divers bents breed civil fray ;
Hard hap where halves must disagree,
Or truce halves the whole betray !

O cruel fight ! where fighting friend
With love doth kill a favoring foe,
Where peace with sense is war with God,
And self-delight the seed of woe !

Dame Pleasure's drugs are steeped in sin,
Their sugared taste doth breed annoy ;
O fickle sense ! beware her gin,
Sell not thy soul to brittle joy !

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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Ariel 20 March 2018

Maybe the words should be more simpler

2 3 Reply
Nhiya Parker 13 February 2020

This was written at the time of Shakespeare, this was how they spoke normally. As well as “more simpler” being improper grammar, I suggest you verify your sources before you comment.

0 0 Reply
Michael Walker 24 September 2015

There is a conflict between faith and pleasure, like a civil war inside me and many others. M. Walker.

3 1 Reply