Michael Eyquen de Montaigne

Whom conscience, ne'er asleep,
Wounds with incessant strokes, not loud, but deep.

Whom conscience, ne'er asleep,
Wounds with incessant strokes, not loud, but deep.

Blest tears of soul-felt penitence!
In whose benign, redeeming flow
Is felt the first, the only sense
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Blest tears of soul-felt penitence!
In whose benign, redeeming flow
Is felt the first, the only sense
Of guiltless joy that guilt can know.

Amongst so many borrowed things, am glad if I can steal one,
disguising and altering it for some new read more

Amongst so many borrowed things, am glad if I can steal one,
disguising and altering it for some new service.

While tears that from repentance flow,
In bright exhalement reach the skies.

While tears that from repentance flow,
In bright exhalement reach the skies.

Like the watermen who advance forward while they look backward.

Like the watermen who advance forward while they look backward.