Classic Poem

Far have I clamored in my mind
But nought so great as love I find;
Deep searching wit, mount-moving might,
Are nought compar'd to that good sprite.
Life of delight and soul of bliss!
Sure source of lasting happiness!
Higher then Heaven! lower then hell!
What is thy tent? Where maist thou dwell?
" My mansion hight humility,
Heaven's vastest capability.
The further it doth downward tend
The higher up it doth ascend;
If it go down to utmost nought,
It shall return with that it sought. "
Lord, stretch thy tent in my strait breast;
Enlarge it downward, that sure rest
May then be pight; for that pure fire
Wherewith thou wontest to inspire
All self-dead souls. My life is gone,
Sad solitude's my irksome wonne.
Cut off from men and all this world,
In Lethe's lonesome ditch I'm hurl'd;
Nor might nor sight doth aught me move,
Nor do I care to be above.
O feeble rayes of mentale light!
That best be seen in this dark night,
What are you? What is any strength
If it be not laid in one length
With pride or love? I nought desire
But a new life, or quite t' expire.
Could I demolish with mine eye
Strong towers, stop the fleet stars in skie,
Bring down to earth the pale-faced Moon,
Or turn black midnight to bright Noon;
Though all things were put in my hand —
As parch'd, as dry as th' Libyan sand
Would be my life, if Charity
Were wanting. But Humility
Is more than my poor soul durst crave
That lies entomb'd in lowly grave.
But if 'twere lawful up to send
My voice to Heaven, this should it rend:
" Lord, thrust me deeper into dust,
That thou maist raise me with the just. "