QUICKNESS. by Henry Vaughan FALSE life ! a foil and no more, when               Wilt thou be gone ? Thou foul deception of all men, That would not have the true come on ! Thou art a moon-like toil ; a blind               Self-posing state ; A dark contest of waves and wind ; A mere tempestuous debate. Life is a fix'd, discerning light,               A knowing joy ; No chance, or fit : but ever bright, And calm, and full, yet doth not cloy. 'Tis such a blissful thing, that still               Doth vivify, And shine and smile, and hath the skill To please without eternity. Thou art a toilsome mole, or less,               A moving mist. But life is, what none can express, A quickness, which my God hath kiss'd. Source: Vaughan, Henry. The Poems of Henry Vaughan, Silurist. vol I. E. K. Chambers, Ed. London, Lawrence & Bullen Ltd., 1896. 282. to Works of Henry Vaughan Site copyright ©1996-2000 Anniina Jokinen. All Rights Reserved. Created by Anniina Jokinen on October 10, 2000. Background by the kind permission of Gini Schmitz.