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Pure Laura
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PoetryGeorge HerbertEaster WingsThough 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 beginne : And still with sicknesses and shame Thou didst so punish sinne, That I became Most thinne. With thee Let me combine, And feel this day thy victorie, For, if I imp my wing on thine, Affliction shall advance the flight in me. Love (III)Guilty of dust and sin. But quick-ey'd Love, observing me grow slack From my first entrance in, Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning If I lack'd anything. 'A guest,' I answer'd, 'worthy to be here'; Love said, "You shall be he." 'I, the unkind, the ungrateful? ah my dear, I cannot look on thee.'" Love took my hand and smiling did reply, 'Who made the eyes but I?' 'Truth, Lord, but I have marr'd them; let my shame Go where it doth deserve.' 'And know you not,' says Love, 'who bore the blame?' 'My dear, then I will serve.' 'You must sit down,' says Love, 'and taste my meat.' So I did sit and eat. PrayerGods breath in man returning to his birth, The soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgrimage, The Christian plummet sounding heav’n and earth ; Engine against th’Almightie, sinner's towre, Reversed thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear, The six daies world transposing in an hour, A kinde of tune, which all things hear and fear ; Softness, and peace, and joy, and love, and bliss, Exalted Manna, gladness of the best, Heaven in ordinarie, man well drest, The milkie way, the bird of Paradise, Church-bels beyond the stars heard, the souls bloud, The land of spices, something understood. The PearlI know the wayes of learning; both the head And pipes that feed the presse, and make it runne; What reason hath from nature borrowed, Or of itself, like a good huswife, spunne In laws and policie ; what the starres conspire, What willing nature speaks, what forc’d by fire; Both th’ old discoveries, and the new-found seas, The stock and surplus, cause and historie: All these stand open, or I have the keyes: Yet I love thee. I know the wayes of honour, what maintains The quick returns of courtesie and wit: In vies of favours whether partie gains, When glorie swells the heart, and moldeth it To all expressions both of hand and eye, Which on the world a true love-knot may tie, And bear the bundle, wheresoe’er it goes: How many drammes of spirit there must be To sell my life unto my friends or foes: Yet I love thee. I know the wayes of pleasure, the sweet strains, The lullings and the relishes of it; The propositions of hot bloud and brains; What mirth and musick mean ; what love and wit Have done these twentie hundred yeares, and more: I know the projects of unbridled store: My stuffe is flesh, not brasse; my senses live, And grumble oft, that they have more in me Then he that curbs them, being but one to five: Yet I love thee. I know all these, and have them in my hand: Therefore not sealed, but with open eyes I flie to thee, and fully understand Both the main sale, and the commodities; And at what rate and price I have thy love; With all the circumstances that may move: Yet through these labyrinths, not my groveling wit, But thy silk twist let down from heav’n to me, Did both conduct and teach me, how by it To climbe to thee. |