Any fans of Herbert's poetry here? He's one of my favourite poets. A couple of my favourites: Aaron Holiness on the head, Light and perfection on the breast, Harmonious bells below, raising the dead To lead them unto life and rest. Thus are true Aarons dressed. Profaneness in my head, Defects and darkness in my breast, A noise of passions ringing me for dead Unto a place where is no rest. Poor priest thus am I dressed. Only another head I have, another heart and breast, another music, making live not dead, without whom I could have no rest: In him I am well dressed. Christ is my only head, My alone only heart and breast, My only music, striking me even dead; That to the old man I may rest, And be in him new dressed. So holy in my head, Perfect and light in my dear breast, My doctrine tuned by Christ, (who is not dead, But lives in me while I do rest) Come people; Aaron's dressed. Gratefulness You that have giv'n so much to me, Give one thing more, a grateful heart. See how your beggar works on thee By art. He makes your gifts occasion more, And says, If he in this be crossed, All you have giv'n him heretofore Is lost. But you did reckon, when at first Your word our hearts and hands did crave, What it would come to at the worst To save. Perpetual knockings at your door, Tears sullying your transparent rooms, Gift upon gift, much would have more, And comes. This notwithstanding, you still went on, And did allow us all our noise: Nay, you have made a sigh and groan Your joys. Not that you have not still above Much better tunes, than groans can make; But that these country-airs your love Did take. Wherefore I cry, and cry again; And in no quiet can you be, Till I a thankful heart obtain Of thee: Not thankful, when it pleases me; As if your blessings had spare days: But such a heart, whose pulse may be Your praise.