by Henry Vaughan
COME, my heart ! come, my
and tears !
'Tis now, since you have lain thus dead,
Who never wake to groan, nor weep,
Shall be sentenc'd for their sleep.
Do but see your sad estate,
Have left us, while we careless sate
by our ears ;
How ill have we ourselves bestow'd,
Whose suns are all set in a cloud !
Yet come, and let's peruse them all,
What sins on every minute fall
on the glass ;
The glass with tears you
That done, we shall be safe and good :
Those beasts were clean that chew'd the cud.
Vaughan, Henry. The Poems of Henry Vaughan, Silurist. vol I.
E. K. Chambers, Ed. London, Lawrence & Bullen Ltd., 1896. 52-53.
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