I’ve been put onto George Herbert’s poems recently. Let me know if you have any favourites!

(Note that an ‘ague’ is something like ‘a fever’) 

Lord, how I am all ague, when I seek
     What I have treasured in my memory!
     Since, if my soul make even with the week,
Each seventh note by right is due to thee.
I find there quarries of piled vanities,
     But shreds of holiness, that dare not venture
     To show their face, since cross to thy decrees:
There the circumference earth is, heav'n the centre.
In so much dregs the quintessence is small:
     The spirit and good extract of my heart
     Comes to about the many hundredth part.
Yet Lord restore thine image, hear my call:
     And though my hard heart scarce to thee can groan,
     Remember that thou once didst write in stone.