Henry Vaughan

They are all gone into the world of light!
   And I alone sit lingring here;
Their very memory is fair and bright,
          And my sad thoughts doth clear.

It glows and glitters in my cloudy brest,
   Like stars upon some gloomy grove,
Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest,
          After the Sun’s remove.

I see them walking in an Air of glory,
   Whose light doth trample on my days:
My days, which are at best but dull and hoary,
          Meer glimering and decays.

O holy hope! and high humility,
   High as the Heavens above!
These are your walks, and you have shew’d them me
          To kindle my cold love.

Dear, beauteous Death! the Jewel of the Just,
   Shining nowhere, but in the dark;
What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust
          Could man outlook that mark!

He that hath found some fledg’d bird’s nest, may know
   At first sight, if the bird be flown;
But what fair Well, or Grove he sings in now,
          That is to him unknown.

And yet, as Angels in some brighter dreams
   Call to the soul, when man doth sleep:
So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted theams
          And into glory peep.

If a star were confin’d into a Tomb,
   Her captive flames must needs burn there;
But when the hand that lockt her up, gives room,
          She’l shine through all the sphaere.

O Father of eternal life, and all
   Created glories under thee!
Resume thy spirit from this world of thrall
          Into true liberty.

Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill
   My perspective (still) as they pass,
Or else remove me hence unto that hill,
          Where I shall need no glass.     

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