Poetry --Sir Thomas Browne

From A Ring of Endless Light by Madeleine L’Engle p. 20


If thou could’st empty all thyself of self,
     Like to a shell dishabited,
Then might He find thee on the ocean shelf,
     And say, “This is not dead,”
     And fill thee with Himself instead.

But thou art all replete with very thou
     And hast such shrewd activity,
That when He comes He says, “This is enow
     Unto itself—‘twere better let it be,
     It is so small and full, there is no room for Me.”

                     --Sir Thomas Browne

Vicky: “As for me, I felt replete with very me, full of confusions and questions for which there were no answers.”