Classic Poem

ODE LVIII

Poore man! I am as Dull, as dull can bee;
  Dull in my Selfe, with Sin,
For Sin is heavie; I am darke within;
  And cannot see
My selfe. Poor man! a Cloud, has spred upon
My Soule, and I am lost; I am undone:
  Huge vapour flyes
Betwixt me and my selfe; all Light is gon;
  I am a Chaos growne;
Rise, Sun of Glorie, yet at length arise!

*****

Dispell these mists; that I at once may See
My selfe, in my owne Heart; and All, in Thee.