weekend interlude 6

A Wreath

BY GEORGE HERBERT

A wreathéd garland of deservéd praise,

Of praise deservéd, unto thee I give,

I give to thee, who knowest all my ways,

My crooked winding ways, wherein I live,

Wherein I die, not live: for life is straight,

Straight as a line, and ever tends to thee,

To thee, who art more far above deceit,

Then deceit seems above simplicity.

Give me simplicity, that I may live,

So live and like, that I may know thy ways,

Know them and practice them: then shall I give

For this poor wreath, give thee a crown of praise.