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Reply to "Easter Poem"

Easter Wings

Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store, 
      Though foolishly he lost the same, 
         Decaying more and more, 
         Till he became 
         Most poore: 
         With thee 
         O let me rise 
         As larks, harmoniously, 
      And sing this day thy victories: 
Then shall the fall further the flight in me. 
My tender age in sorrow did beginne 
      And still with sicknesses and shame. 
         Thou didst so punish sinne, 
         That I became 
         Most thinne. 
         With thee 
         Let me combine, 
         And feel thy victorie: 
         For, if I imp my wing on thine, 
Affliction shall advance the flight in me. 
Last edited by Inda
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