Classic Poem

If that the world doth in a maze remaine,
To heare in what a sad deploring mood
The pelican powres from her brest her blood,
To bring to life her younglinges backe againe,
How should wee wonder of that soueraigne good,
Who from that serpent's sting, that had vs slaine,
To saue our liues, shed his life's purple flood,
And turn'd in endlesse ioy our endlesse paine?
Vngratefull soule, that charm'd with false delight,
Hast long long wandr'd in sinne's flowrie path,
And didst not thinke at all, or thoughtst not right
On this thy pelicane's great loue and death,
Heere pause, and let, though earth it scorne, heauen see
Thee powre forth teares to him powr'd blood for thee.