A-Courting

I come a-courting

Once again

Within your hallowed halls

But this time

Not with pressing needs

Nor puzzlement, nor falls.

I only come to

Think on you

And all your mercy shown

To one so frail

And faltering

But still your child, your own.

And all around

Your handiwork

In nature's shapes and hues

The big and small

You made them all

Your breath of life infused.

These halls are still

They offer rest

And insights rich, divine

And in this peace

The sure release

That such a God is mine.

Reviews

[Trigorin]

Not bad. I think this could do with a few longer lines here and there, to break up the sort of staccato rhythm you've got going, but that's really up to you. Well done.