Classic Poem

Affliction

O come, and welcom! Come, refine;
For Moors if wash'd by thee, will shine.
Man blossoms at thy touch; and he
When thou draw'st blood, is thy Rose-tree .
Crosses make strait his crooked ways,
And Clouds but cool his dog-star days.
Diseases too, when by thee blest,
Are both restoratives and rest .
Flow'rs that in Sun-shines riot still,
Dye scorch'd and sapless; though storms kill.
The fall is fair ev'n to desire,
Where in their sweetness all expire.
O come, pour on! what calms can be
So fair as storms , that appease thee?English