Poem for March 1, 2028

I am a little world made cunningly

Of elements, and an angelic sprite;

But black sin hath betrayed to endless night

My worlds both parts, and (oh!) both parts must die.

You which beyond that heaven which was most high

Have found new spheres, and of new lands can write,

Pour new seas in mine eyes, that so I might

Drown my world with my weeping earnestly,

Or wash it if it must be drowned no more:

But oh it must be burnt! alas the fire

Of lust and envy have burnt it heretofore,

And made it fouler: Let their flames retire,

And burn me, O Lord, with a fiery zeal

Of Thee and Thy house, which doth in eating heal.