Shall I be still in suit? Have I no harvest but a thorn To let me blood, and not restore What I have lost with cordial fruit? Before my sighs did dry it; there was corn Is the year only lost to me? No flowers, no garlands gay? All blasted? Not so, my heart; but there is fruit, Recover all thy sigh-blown age On double pleasure: leave thy cold dispute Which petty thoughts have made, and made to thee And be thy law, While thou dost wink and would'st not see. I will abroad. Call in thy death's-head there: tie up thy fears. To suit and serve his need Deserves his load. But as I raved and grew more fierce and wild Methought I heard one calling 'Child!' THE WHITE ISLAND 315 CCCL THE WHITE ISLAND In this world, the Isle of Dreams, But when once from hence we fly, Uniting: In that whiter island, where -There no monstrous fancies shall Out of Hell an horror call, To create (or cause at all) There in calm and cooling sleep Pleasures such as shall pursue CCCLI Herrick. GOOD FRIDAY Most glorious Lord of Life, that on this day This joyous day, dear Lord, with joy begin, And that Thy love we weighing worthily, So let us love, dear Love, like as we ought, -Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught. Spenser. THE WEEPER 317 CCCLII THE WEEPER MARY MAGDALENE THE dew no more will weep The primrose's pale cheek to deck: The dew no more will sleep Nuzzled in the lily's neck: Much rather would it tremble here Not the soft gold which Steals from the amber-weeping tree, Makes Sorrow half so rich As the drops distill'd from thee: Sorrow's best jewels lie in these Caskets of which Heaven keeps the keys. When Sorrow would be seen In her brightest majesty, -For she is a Queen— Then is she drest by none but thee: Then, and only then, she wears Her richest pearls-I mean thy tears. Not in the evening's eyes, When they red with weeping are For the sun that dies, Sits Sorrow with a face so fair: Nowhere but here doth meet Sweetness so sad, sadness so sweet. When some new bright guest Angels with their bottles come, Does the night arise? Still thy tears do fall and fall. Does night lose her eyes? Still the fountain weeps for all. Let night or day do what they will, CCCLIII DISCIPLINE THROW away Thy rod, Take the gentle path. For my heart's desire Unto Thine is bent: To a full consent. Not a word or look I affect to own, But by book And Thy book alone. R. Crashaw. |