To His Angry God.
Through all the night Thou dost me fright, And hold'st mine eyes from sleeping; And day by day, My cup can say My wine is mix'd with weeping. Thou dost my bread With ashes knead Each evening and each morrow; Mine eye and ear Do see and hear The coming in of sorrow. Thy scourge of steel, Ah me! I feel Upon me beating ever: While my sick heart With dismal smart Is disacquainted never. Long, long, I'm sure, This can't endure, But in short time 'twill please Thee, My gentle God, To burn the rod, Or strike so as to ease me.
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"Through all the night..."
Robert Herrick's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "To His Angry God."... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...