Thus thinne and lean without a fence or friend,
I was blown through with ev'ry storm and winde.

(George Herbert (1593-1633), British poet. Affliction (l. 35-36). . . Norton Anthology of Poetry, The. Alexander W. Allison and others, eds. (3d ed., 1983) W. W. Norton & Company.)

Now I am here, what thou wilt do with me
None of my books will show:
I reade, and sigh, and wish I were a tree;

(George Herbert (1593-1633), British poet. Affliction (l. 55-57). . . Norton Anthology of Poetry, The. Alexander W. Allison and others, eds. (3d ed., 1983) W. W. Norton & Company.)

At first thou gav'st me milk and sweetnesses;
I had my wish and way:
My dayes were straw'd with flow'rs and happinesse;
There was no month but May.
But with my yeares sorrow did twist and grow,
And made a partie unawares for wo.

(George Herbert (1593-1633), British poet. Affliction (l. 19-24). . . Norton Anthology of Poetry, The. Alexander W. Allison and others, eds. (3d ed., 1983) W. W. Norton & Company.)

Give me simplicity, that I may live,
So live and like, that I may know Thy ways,
Know them and practise them: then shall I give
For this poor wreath, give Thee a crown of praise.

(George Herbert (1593-1633), British poet. A Wreath (l. 9-12). . . The Complete English Poems [George Herbert]. John Tobin, ed. (1991) Penguin Books.)

I, who had heard of music in the spheres,
But not of speech in stars, began to muse:
But turning to my God, whose ministers
The stars and all things are; If I refuse,
Dread Lord, said I, so oft my good;
Then I refuse not ev'n with blood
To wash away my stubborn thought:
For I will do or suffer what I ought.

(George Herbert (1593-1633), British poet. Artillerie (l. 9-16). . . The Complete English Poems [George Herbert]. John Tobin, ed. (1991) Penguin Books.)

Ah my deare God! though I am clean forgot, Let me not love thee, if I love thee not.

(George Herbert (1593-1633), British poet. Affliction (l. 65-66). . . Norton Anthology of Poetry, The. Alexander W. Allison and others, eds. (3d ed., 1983) W. W. Norton & Company.)

Ah my dear angry Lord,
Since thou dost love, yet strike;
Cast down, yet help afford;
Sure I will do the like.

(George Herbert (1593-1633), British poet. Bitter-sweet (l. 1-4). . . The Complete English Poems [George Herbert]. John Tobin, ed. (1991) Penguin Books.)

thou mayst know,
That flesh is but the glass, which holds the dust
That measures all our time;

(George Herbert (1593-1633), British poet. Church Monuments (l. 19-21). . . The Complete English Poems [George Herbert]. John Tobin, ed. (1991) Penguin Books.)

But since our Saviours death did put some bloud
Into thy face;
Thou art grown fair and full of grace,
Much in request, much sought for as a good.

(George Herbert (1593-1633), British poet. Death (l. 13-16). . . The Complete English Poems [George Herbert]. John Tobin, ed. (1991) Penguin Books.)

Death, thou wast once an uncouth hideous thing,
Nothing but bones,
The sad effect of sadder grones;
Thy mouth was open, but thou couldst not sing.

(George Herbert (1593-1633), British poet. Death (l. 1-4). . . The Complete English Poems [George Herbert]. John Tobin, ed. (1991) Penguin Books.)