Volume I Part 80 (1/2)
MAN
Weighing the steadfastness and state Of some mean things which here below reside, Where birds, like watchful clocks, the noiseless date And intercourse of times divide.
Where bees at night get home and hive, and flowers, Early as well as late, Rise with the sun, and set in the same bowers;
I would, said I, my G.o.d would give The staidness of these things to man! for these To His divine appointments ever cleave, And no new business breaks their peace; The birds nor sow nor reap, yet sup and dine, The flowers without clothes live, Yet Solomon was never dressed so fine.
Man hath still either toys, or care; He hath no root, nor to one place is tied, But ever restless and irregular About this earth doth run and ride; He knows he hath a home, but scarce knows where; He says it is so far, That he hath quite forgot how to go there.
He knocks at all doors, strays and roams; Nay, hath not so much wit as some stones have, Which in the darkest nights point to their homes By some hid sense their Maker gave; Man is the shuttle, to whose winding quest And pa.s.sage through these looms G.o.d ordered motion, but ordained no rest.
Henry Vaughan [1622-1695]
THE PULLEY
When G.o.d at first made Man, Having a gla.s.s of blessings 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, Then beauty flowed, then wisdom, honor, pleasure: When almost all was out, G.o.d 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 G.o.d 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.
George Herbert [1593-1633]
ODE ON THE INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD
I There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;-- Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
II The Rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the Rose; The Moon doth with delight Look round her when the heavens are bare; Waters on a starry night Are beautiful and fair; The suns.h.i.+ne is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath pa.s.sed away a glory from the earth.
III Now, while the Birds thus sing a joyous song, And while the young Lambs bound As to the tabor's sound, To me alone there came a thought of grief: A timely utterance gave that thought relief, And I again am strong.
The Cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep: No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And all the earth is gay; Land and Sea Give themselves up to jollity, And with the heart of May Doth every Beast keep holiday;-- Thou Child of Joy, Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy Shepherd-boy!
IV Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call Ye to each other make; I see The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee; My heart is at your festival, My head hath its coronal, The fulness of your bliss, I feel--I feel it all.
O evil day! if I were sullen While Earth herself is adorning This sweet May morning, And the Children are culling On every side, In a thousand valleys far and wide, Fresh flowers; while the sun s.h.i.+nes warm, And the Babe leaps up on his Mother's arm:-- I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
--But there's a Tree, of many, one, A single Field which I have looked upon, Both of them speak of something that is gone: The Pansy at my feet Doth the same tale repeat: Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
V Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar: Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory do we come From G.o.d, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy!