Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 86, by EDWARD TAYLOR



Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 86, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Sometimes, my lord, while that my soule enwarms
Last Line: Then o're this feast, I will say grace for joy.
Subject(s): Puritans In Literature


Sometimes, my Lord, while that my Soule enwarms
Heroicks to thy Violl, I did finde
My heart enchanted with thy Ambient Charms,
That like an Angell, agitate my minde,
Soaring't as on seraphick wings on high.
But now, like lead, I Cold, and Heavy lie.

Lord, touch it with thine Altars quick, live Coale,
And then my Spirits, (oh! how brisk? How Quick?)
Will sweetest melody upon thee rowle.
Their Tunes shall with thy praises frisk and skip.
When on thy Sillibubb I sup and bib,
Thy wine and milk will make my Notes run glib.

But is it thus? Do graces blossoms grow
As Myrrh? And Spice? Hony? And Hony Comb?
Yea Wine, and Milk, which as they overflow?
For thee, thou eatst, and drinkst, and sayst come come
Furnish my Table with the same I'l cry
Eat here my Friends, drink, drinke abundantly?

Wilt thou me spice with spice that spiceth thee?
Shall I eat of the Hony Comb thou eatst?
Shall I drinke of the Cup thou drinkst of? See!
Drink of thy Wine and Milk! eat of thy meats?
What Love? What Honour? Shall I have such share
And hearty welcome of thy Trencher fare?

Oh that the Quintessence, Lord, of mee here
In the pure Spirits then of Zions Wine
Extracted were all into Praise most cleare
I'd raise to thee Up Praise. Id all be thine.
Could I refine myselfe thus melt to praise
All should be thine on this account, and blaze.

Then make mee, Lord, one of thy garden beds
The Herb of Trinity set in my Heart.
Herb True Love. Herb of Grace with Rosie Sheds,
Which springing up may beauties sweet impart.
Then I shall yield thee Hony, Milk and Wine:
And Spice too, sweet to thee, and t'sweeten thine.

Mee gracious make, then Graces fruits I'st beare.
Which thou, Lord, callst thy Myrrh, thy Spice and Milk
Thy Wine thy Hony too, of which a Share
To mee to wonderment, impart thou wilt.
Eate at thy Table, and drinke too shall I?
Then o're this Feast, I will say GRACE for joy.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...



Home: PoetryExplorer.net