Excerpt From A Poem on Mr. Calamy’s Imprisonment by Robert Wilde

Let me find honey, though upon a road,
And prize the prison, where my keeper’s God:
Newgate or hell were heaven if Christ were there–
He made the stable so, and sepulchre.
Indeed, the place did for your presence call;
Prisons do want perfuming most of all.
Thanks to the bishop and his good lord mayor,
Who turned the den of thieves into a house of prayer;
And may some thief by you converted be,
Like him who suffered in Christ’s company.

by Robert Wilde


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s