Or fetch me back that cloud again, Tell me the motes, dusts, sands, and spears WILLIAM DRUMMOND. Born, 1585; Died, 1649. CONSTANCY OF CHANGE. TRIUMPHING chariots, statues, crowns of bays, Sky-threatening arches, the rewards of worth, Books heavenly-wise in sweet harmonious lays, Which men divine unto the world set forth : States which ambitious minds, in blood, do raise, From frozen Tanais unto sunburnt Gange, Gigantic frames, held wonders rarely strange, Like spiders' webs, are made the sport of days: Nothing is constant but inconstant change; What's done is still undone, and when undone Into some other fashion doth it range : Thus goes the floating world beneath the moon ; Wherefore, my mind, above time, motion, place, Rise up, and steps unknown to nature trace. TO THE NIGHTINGALE. SWEET bird that sing'st away the early hours Well pleased with delights that present are, RETIREMENT. THRICE happy he, who, by some shady grove, But doth converse with that eternal love. O, how more sweet is bird's harmonious moan, C GEORGE WITHER. Born, 1588; Died, 1667. WRITTEN IN PRISON. LORD, when Thou me shalt gather Out of this land of life, Be thou my children's Father, When I to them must never Speak more with tongue or pen, And they be barr'd for ever Preserve them from each folly Let not this world bewitch them And whilst we live together, So just, so faithful-hearted, THE Voice which I did more esteem Than music in her sweetest key; Those eyes which unto me did seem More comfortable than the day! Those now by me, as they have been, Shall never more be heard or seen; But what I once enjoy'd in them Shall seem hereafter as a dream. All earthly comforts vanish thus ; ROBERT HERRICK. Born, 1591; Died, 1674. TO BLOSSOMS. FAIR pledges of a fruitful tree, Why do ye fall so fast? Your date is not so past, But you may stay here yet awhile But you are lovely leaves, where we Their end, though ne'er so brave: FRANCIS QUARLES. DIVINE EJACULATION. FOUNTAIN of light and living breath, Whose mercies never fail nor fade, Fill me with life that hath no death, Fill me with light that hath no shade Appoint the remnant of my days To see Thy power, and sing Thy praise. ; Lord God of gods, before whose throne When all the world belongs to Thee? O Thou that sitt'st in heaven, and see'st How bitter my afflictions be |