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George Herbert - To All Angels And Saints
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Oh glorious spirits, who after all your bands
See the smooth face of God, without a frown
                              Or strict commands;
Where ev`ry one is king, and hath his crown,
If not upon his head, yet in his hands:

Not out of envie or maliciousnesse
Do I forbear to crave your speciall aid:
                              I would addresse
My vows to thee most gladly, blessed Maid,
And Mother of my God, in my distresse:

Thou art the holy mine, whence came the gold,
The great restorative for all decay
                              In young and old;
Thou art the cabinet where the jewell lay:
Chiefly to thee would I my soul unfold.

But now, alas, I dare not; for our King,
Whom we do all joyntly adore and praise,
                              Bids no such thing:
And where his pleasure no injunction layes,
(`Tis your own case) ye never move a wing.

All worship is prerogative, and a flower
Of his rich crown, from whom lyes no appeal
                              At the last houre:
Therefore we dare not from his garland steal,
To make a posie of inferiour power.

Although then others court you, if ye know
What`s done on earth, we shall not fare the worse,
                              Who do not so;
Since we are ever ready to disburse,
If any one our Master`s hand can show.
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