Short Poems

The Quidditie by George Herbert

220px-George_HerbertMY God, a verse is not a crown,
No point of honour, or gay suit,
No hawk, or banquet, or renown,
Nor a good sword, nor yet a lute:

It cannot vault, or dance, or play;
It never was in France or Spain;
Nor can it entertain the day
With my great stable or demain:

It is no office, art, or news,
Nor the Exchange, or busie Hall;
But it is that which while I use
I am with thee, and Most take all.

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The Wrestler of Kettering by Mark Nenadov

(In memory of Calvinistic Baptist theologian and pastor Andrew Fuller, who was a wrestler in his youth)

A cub grappled on the mat of his youth
became a pen-wrestler for the truth,
a lion in the pulpit, den, and desk
ready to roar for a faith he’d confess.

Cubs of Sozzini and Glas roared as well,
you may notice that,
but the truth they couldn’t quell;
the Lord sent Fuller to the mat.

by Mark Nenadov (this poem previously appeared in Reformed Perspectives)

Excerpt from The Loyal Nonconformist by Robert Wilde (1666)

For holy vestments I'll not take an oath
     Which linen most canonical may be;
Some are for lawn, some holland, some Scots'-cloth
     And hemp, for some, is fitter than all three.

Paul had a cloak, and boots, and parchments too;
     But that he wore a surplice I'll not swear
Nor that his parchments did his orders show,
     Or in his books there was a Common Prayer.

by Robert Wilde, 1666

Another by Robert Wilde

Look whisly, friend, thou seldom seest such men,
	Heaven drops such jewels down but now and then--
One in an age, or nation: oh, 'tis rare,
Two Reynoldses(*) should fall to England's share!
Could Rome but show one such, and this were he,
His picture could not 'scape idolatry:
	Whom Papists (not with superstitious fire)
	Would dare to adore, we justly may admire.

by Robert Wilde

(*) The other was Dr. John Reynolds, an Elizabethan Puritan.