POETRY: Death — A Dialogue, by Henry Vaughan

Death, A Dialogue Henry Vaughan

Soul.
‘Tis a sad Land, that in one day
Hath dulled thee thus, when death shall freeze
Thy blood to ice, and thou must stay
Tenant for years, and centuries,
How wilt thou brook’t?—

Body.
I cannot tell,—
But if all sense wings not with thee,
And something still be left the dead,
I’ll wish my curtains off to free
Me from so dark, and sad a bed;

A nest of nights, a gloomy sphere,
Where shadows thicken, and the cloud
Sits on the sun’s brow all the year,
And nothing moves without a shroud;

Soul.
‘Tis so: But as thou sawest that night
We traveled in, our first attempts
Were dull, and blind, but custom straight
Our fears, and falls brought to contempt,

Then, when the ghastly twelve was past
We breathed still for a blushing East,
And bad the lazy sun make haste,
And on sure hopes, though long, did feast;

But when we saw the clouds to crack
And in those crannies light appeared,
We thought the day then was not slack,
And pleased our selves with what we feared;

Just so it is in death. But thou
Shalt in thy mother’s bosom sleep
Whilst I each minute groan to know
How near Redemption creeps.

Then shall we meet to mix again, and met,
‘Tis last good-night, our sun shall never set.

1 Comment on POETRY: Death — A Dialogue, by Henry Vaughan

  1. Thanks for this. Vaughan has depth of mind and feeling. Regards thom

    Like

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