Have I no harvest but a thorn To let me blood, and not restore Before my sighs did dry it: there was corn, Is the year only lost to me? Have I no bays to crown it? No flowers, no garlands gay? all blasted? Not so, my heart: but there is fruit, Recover all thy sigh-blown age On double pleasures; leave thy cold dispute Which petty thoughts have made, and made to thee Good cable, to enforce and draw, And be thy law, While thou didst wink and wouldst not see. I will abroad. Call in thy death's-head there; tie up thy fears. To suit and serve his need, But as I raved and grew more fierce and wild Methought I heard one calling, Child; And I replied, My Lord! THE GLIMPSE. WHITHER away, Delight? Thou cam'st but now; wilt thou so soon depart, For many weeks of lingering pain and smart Methinks delight should have More skill in music, and keep better time. They quickly go and come with lesser crime: Thy short abode and stay Feeds not, but adds to the desire of meat. A neighbor spring to cool his inward heat; Which by the spring's access grew much more great. In hope of thee, my heart Pick'd here and there a crumb, and would not die; But constant to his part, When as my fears foretold this, did reply, A slender thread a gentle guest will tie. Yet, if the heart that wept Must let thee go, return when it doth knock. For future times, the droppings of the stock If I have more to spin, The wheel shall go, so that thy stay be short. Disturb the work. O make me not their sport, ASSURANCE. O SPITEFUL, bitter thought! Bitterly spiteful thought! Couldst thou invent When wit contrives to meet with thee, Thou saidst, but even now, That all was not so fair as I conceived, And coin large hopes; but, that I was deceived: And, that I had great cause to fear it. And what to this? What more Could poison, if it had a tongue, express ? What is thy aim? Wouldst thou unlock the door Wouldst thou raise devils? I see, I know, But I will to my Father, Who heard thee say it. O most gracious Lord, But Thou art my desert: And in this league, which now my foes invade, And hold my hand, while I did write. Wherefore, if Thou canst fail, Then can Thy truth and I: but while rocks stand, Now, foolish thought, go on, To hide thy shame: for thou hast cast a bone, Which bounds on thee, and will not down thy throat. What for itself love once began, Now love and truth will end in man. THE CALL. COME, my Way, my Truth, my Life! Such a Truth, as ends all strife ; Such a Life, as killeth death. Come, my Light, my Feast, my Strength! Such a Feast, as mends in length; Such a Strength, as makes his guest. Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart! CLASPING OF HANDS. LORD, Thou art mine, and I am Thine, |