Page:Complete Poems of Robert Southwell.djvu/169

Rh A chaunce may wynne that by mischance was lost; The nett that houldes no greate, takes little fishe; In some thinges all, in all thinges none are croste, Fewe all they neede, but none have all they wishe; Unmedled joyes here to no man befall, Who least hath some, who most hath never all.

thoughtes enjoy their owne delightes, As beauty doth in self-behoulding eye; Man's mynde a mirrhour is of heavenly sightes, A breife wherein all marveylls summèd lye, Of fayrest formes and sweetest shapes the store, Most gracefull all, yet thought may grace them more.

The mynde a creature is, yet can create, To Nature's paterns adding higher skill; Of fynest workes witt better could the state If force of witt had equall poure of will: Devise of man in working hath no ende; What thought can thinke an other thought can mende.