Peace By George Herbert
Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell? I humbly crave,
Let me once know.
I sought thee in a secret cave,
And ask’d, if Peace were there,
A hollow wind did seem to answer, No:
Go seek elsewhere.
I did; and going did a rainbow note:
Surely, thought I,
This is the lace of Peace’s coat:
I will search out the matter.
But while I looked the clouds immediately
Did break and scatter.
Then went I to a garden and did spy
A gallant flower,
The crown-imperial: Sure, said I,
Peace at the root must dwell.
But when I digged, I saw a worm devour
What showed so well.
At length I met a rev’rend good old man;
Whom when for Peace
I did demand, he thus began:
There was a Prince of old
At Salem dwelt, who lived with good increase
Of flock and fold.
He sweetly lived; yet sweetness did not save
His life from foes.
But after death out of his grave
There sprang twelve stalks of wheat;
Which many wond’ring at, got some of those
To plant and set.
It prospered strangely, and did soon disperse
Through all the earth:
For they that taste it do rehearse
That virtue lies therein;
A secret virtue, bringing peace and mirth
By flight of sin.
Take of this grain, which in my garden grows,
And grows for you;
Make bread of it: and that repose
And peace, which ev’ry where
With so much earnestness you do pursue,
Is only there.
Listening to Cicadas
Listening To Cicadas Thousands of soda chargers detonating simultaneously at the one party * The aural equivalent of the smell of cheese fermented in the stomach of a slaughtered goat * The aural equivalent of downing eight glasses of caffeinated alcohol *...
A Bird Came Down the Walk
A bird came down the walk:He did not know I saw;He bit an angle-worm in halvesAnd ate the fellow, raw. And then he drank a dewFrom a convenient grass,And then hopped sidewise to the wallTo let a beetle pass. He glanced with rapid eyesThat hurried all abroad,--They...
A Minor Bird by Robert Frost
I have wished a bird would fly away,And not sing by my house all day; Have clapped my hands at him from the doorWhen it seemed as if I could bear no more. The fault must partly have been in me.The bird was not to blame for his key. And of course there must be...
The Tyger by William Blake
The Tyger By William Blake Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies. Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand, dare seize...
Autumn Crows by Kimiko Hahn
Autumn Crows by Kimiko Hahn My favorite months reside in autumn when the sunset is riddled with crows— and my wishes swerve to fly into the purples and pinks to spot then devour the heart of that ex-lover, hardly human.
0 Comments