LET forrain nations of their language boast,
What fine varietie each tongue affords :
I like our language, as our men and coast ;
Who cannot dresse it well, want wit, not words.
How neatly do we give one onely name
To parents issue and the sunnes bright starre !
A sonne is light and fruit ; a fruitfull flame
Chasing the fathers dimnesse, carri’d far
From the first man in th’ East, to fresh and new
Western discov’ries of posteritie.
So in one word our Lords humilitie
We turn upon him in a sense most true :
For what Christ once in humblenesse began,
We him in glorie call, The Sonne of Man.
Herbert, George. The Poetical Works of George Herbert.
New York: D. Appleton and Co., 1857. 214.
||to Works of George Herbert|
Site ©1996-2001 Anniina Jokinen. All Rights Reserved.
Created by Anniina Jokinen on July 30, 2001.