The Pulley

My sister asked assistance to analyze this poem yesterday. I couldn't understand it at first, but soon enough, everything started falling piece by piece. This made me realize that my creative skills have been rusted by my management work too much. It also made me see once again where my true love lies, in the arts, in creativity, in liberality. I've never enjoyed something a lot in quite some time already.

The Pulley
George Herbert

When God at first made man,
Having a glass of blesings standing by;
Let us (said he) pour on him all we can:
Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie,
Contract into a span.

So strength first made a way;
The beauty flow'd, then wisdom, honour, pleasure:
When almost all was out, God made a stay,
Perceiving that alone of all his treasure
Rest in the bottom lay.

For if I should (said he)
Bestow this jewel also on my creature,
He would adore my gifts instead of me,
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature:
So both should losers be.

Yet let him keep the rest,
But keep them with repining restlessness:
Let him be rich and weary, that at least,
If goodness lead him not, yet weariness
May toss him to my breast.