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George Herbert - Gratefulnesse
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Thou that hast giv`n so much to me,
Give one thing more, a grateful heart.
See how thy beggar works on thee 
                                        By art.

He makes thy gift occasion more,
And sayes, If he in this be crost,
All thou hast giv`n him heretofore
                                        Is lost.

But thou didst reckon, when at first
Thy word our hearts and hands did crave,
What it would come to at the worst 
                                        To save.

Perpetuall knockings at thy doore,
Tears sullying thy transparent rooms,
Gift upon gift; much would have more,
                                        And comes.

This notwithstanding, thou wentst on,
And didst allow us all our noise:
Nay thou hast made a sigh and grone
                                        The joyes.

Not that thou hast not still above
Much better tunes, then grones can make;
But that these countrey-aires thy love
                                        Did take.

Wherefore I crie, and crie again;
And in no quiet canst thou be,
Till I a thankfull heart obtain
                                        Of thee:

Not thankfull, when it pleaseth me;
As if thy blessings had spare dayes:
But such a heart, whose pulse may be 
                                        Thy praise.
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