O FLY, my Soul! What hangs upon <br /> Thy drooping wings, <br /> And weighs them down <br />With love of gaudy mortal things? <br /> <br />The Sun is now i' the east: each shade <br /> As he doth rise <br /> Is shorter made, <br />That earth may lessen to our eyes. <br /> <br />O be not careless then and play <br /> Until the Star of Peace <br />Hide all his beams in dark recess! <br />Poor pilgrims needs must lose their way, <br />When all the shadows do increase.<br /><br />James Shirley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-hymn-3/
