(Of Something Made By The Giver) <br /> <br />Child, your effectual hands create too much. <br />The things they fashion having, thenceforth, less <br />The type of matter than the preciousness <br />Of you, how can I serve myself of such? <br />The kindred in my being doth avouch <br />Your essence; in the very press and stress <br />Of action I am foiled to a caress. <br />Ah! give me something you but meant to touch! <br />Something your love has ripen'd till I'm 'ware <br />Of thoughts that came in light and stay'd in sweet, <br />Or th' apostolic shadow of your care, <br />Passing by, hath healed of malady, <br />Or wholed in use and grace: gifts rare and meet, <br />But not too rarely yours to be for me <br />Still meet, nor meetly mine to be still yours and rare.<br /><br />Sydney Thompson Dobell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/deprecating-a-gift/
