Gifts
With each one now received
Come to bemoan this.
Probing, do not find , within
Any worthiness.
Soul, Love itself died for!
Lord's; richest there is!
Undeserved or not, give thanks
That others hate less!
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
