I am the faythfull deputy
Unto your fading memory.
Your Index long in search doth hold;
Your folded wrinkles make books olde:
But I the Scripture open plaine,
And what you heard soone teach againe:
By mee the Welchman well may bring
Himselfe to Heaven in a string.
On A Register For A Bible
William Strode
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Poem topics: heaven, memory, long, bring, hold, open, teach, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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