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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=396340" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sin's Round</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=396340" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Sorry I am, my God, sorry I am, <br>That my offences course it in a ring. <br>My thoughts are working like a busy flame, <br>Until their cockatrice they hatch and bring: <br>And when they once have perfected their draughts, <br>My words take fire from my inflamed thoughts. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=396340" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">My words take fire fro m my inflamed thoughts, <br>Which spit it forth like the Sicilian hill. <br>They vent their wares, and pass them with their faults, <br>And by their breathing ventilate the ill. <br>But words suffice not, where are lewd intentions: <br>My hands do join to finish the inventions. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=396340" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">My hands do join to finish the inventions: <br>And so my sins ascend three stories high, <br>As Babel grew, before there were dissentions. <br>Let ill deeds loiter not: for they supply <br>New thoughts of sinning:<br>wherefore, to my shame, <br>Sorry I am, my God, sorry I am.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=George+Herbert">George Herbert</a></strong></div>

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