Sir John Davies Poems

I KNOW my soul hath power to know all things,
Yet she is blind and ignorant in all:
I know I'm one of Nature's little kings,
Yet to the least and vilest things am thrall.
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Oh what is man, great Maker of mankind!
That Thou to him so great respect dost bear;
That Thou adorn'st him with so bright a mind,
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London now smokes with vapors that arise
From his foule sweat, himselfe he so bestirres :
'Cast out your dead!' the carcase-carrier cries,
Which he by heapes in groundlesse graves interres.—
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To thee, my God, my Lord, my Jesus Christ,
Will I ascribe all glory, pow'r and grace ;
Thee will I serve, say pagans what they list,
And with the arms of love thee still embrace ;
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Go, loving woodbine, clip with lovely grace
Those two sweet plants which bear the flowers of love;
Go, silken vines, those tender elms embrace
Which flourish still although their roots do move.
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