HENRY VAUGHAN
And yet as if some deep hate and dissent,
Bred in thy growth betwixt high winds and thee,
Were still alive thou dost great storms resent
Before they come, and know'st how near they be.
Else all at rest thou liest, and the fierce breath Of tempests can no more disturb thy ease;
But this thy strange resentment after death
Means only those who broke in life thy peace.
575 Friends Departed
THEY are all gone into the world of light! And I alone sit ling'rmg here; Their very memory is fair and bright,
And my sad thoughts doth clear.
It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast, 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 arc at best but dull and hoary, Mere glimmering and decays.
O holy Hope' and high Humility,
High as the heavens above'
These are your walks, and you have show'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!
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