Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PREPAPATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 12, by EDWARD TAYLOR


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PREPAPATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 12, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: This quest rapt at my eares broad golden doores
Last Line: Whose loveliness excells what love can bee.
Subject(s): Puritans In Literature


This Quest rapt at my Eares broad golden Doores
Who's this that comes from Edom in this shine
In Died Robes from Bozrah? this more ore
All Glorious in's Apparrell; all Divine?
Then through that Wicket rusht this buss there gave,
Its I that right do speake mighty to save.

I threw through Zions Lattice then an Eye
Which spide one like a lump of Glory pure
Nay, Cloaths of gold button'd with pearls do ly
Like Rags, or shooclouts unto his he wore.
Heavens Curtains blancht with Sun, and Starrs of Light
Are black as sackcloath to his Garments bright.

One shining sun guilding the skies with Light
Benights all Candles with their flaming Blaze
So doth the Glory of this Robe benight
Ten thousand suns at once ten thousand wayes.
For e'ry thrid therein's dy'de with the shine
Of All, and Each the Attributes Divine.

The sweetest breath, the sweetest Violet
Rose, or Carnation ever did gust out
Is but a Foist to that Perfume beset
In thy Apparell steaming round about:
But is this so? My Peuling soul then pine
In Love untill this Lovely one be thine.

Pluck back the Curtains, back the Window Shutts:
Through Zions Agate Window take a view;
How Christ in Pinckted Robes from Bozrah puts
Comes Glorious in's Apparell forth to Wooe.
Oh! if his Glory ever kiss thine Eye,
Thy Love will soon Enchanted bee thereby.

Then Grieve, my Soul, thy vessell is so small
And holds no more for such a Lovely Hee.
That strength's so little, Love scarce acts at all.
That sight's so dim, doth scarce him lovely see.
Grieve, grieve, my Soul, thou shouldst so pimping bee,
Now such a Price is here presented thee.

All sight's too little sight enough to make
All strength's too little Love enough to reare
All Vessells are too small to hold or take
Enough Love up for such a Lovely Deare.
How little to this Little's then thy ALL.
For Him whose Beauty saith all Love's too small?

My Lovely One, I fain would love thee much
But all my Love is none at all I see,
Oh! let thy Beauty give a glorious tuch
Upon my Heart, and melt to Love all mee.
Lord melt me all up into Love for thee
Whose Loveliness excells what love can bee.





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