Die Heuning Pot Literature Guide
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The Poem

Easter Wings: Text of the Poem

Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,
       Though foolishly he lost the same,
             Decaying more and more,
                     Till he became
                       Most poor:
                       With thee
                    O let me rise
             As larks, harmoniously,
       And sing this day thy victories:
 Then shall the fall further the flight in me.

     My tender age in sorrow did begin:
     And still with sicknesses and shame
            Thou didst so punish sin,
                   That I became
                      Most thin.
                      With thee
                Let me combine,
       And feel this day thy victory:
      For, if I imp my wing on thine,
Affliction shall advance the flight in me.

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