Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 97, by EDWARD TAYLOR


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 97, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: My only lord, when with no muddy sight
Last Line: Tune forth on thee, its harp, that heaven shall greet.
Subject(s): Puritans In Literature


My onely Lord, when with no muddy Sight,
Mine Eyes behold that ardent Flame of Love,
Thy Spouse, when that her day Light seemed night
In passionate affection seemd to move.
When thou to her didst onely Cease to show
Thy sweet love token: makes me cry out, Oh!

Although in trying, I through grace can finde
My heart holds such Conclusions in't, that I
Account this World, Silver, and Gold, refinde
Pearles, Pretious Stones, Riches, and Friends a toy.
Methinks I could part with them all for thee
Yet know not what I should if tri'de should bee.

I dare not say, such ardent flames would rise
Of true Loves passion, in its Blinks or Blisses,
As in thy Holy Spouse's heart that cries
Oh! let him kiss mee with his orall kisses.
Should he but stop such acts of love and grace
Making dark Clouds mask up his brightsom face.

If such strong Flame of Love, be made the mark
And Cata Pantos of true Love, then who
Can prove his marriage knot to Christ in's heart
That doth not finde such ardent flames oreflow?
When thy bright Sun-Shine Face doth weare a Cloude
Methinks my Soule in Sorrows thicket shroudes.

Yet pardon, Lord, give me this word again:
I feare to wrong myselfe, or Gracious thee.
This I can say, and can this say mentain,
If thou withdrawst, my heart soon sinks in mee.
Though oftentimes my Spirits dulled, grow,
If so I am, I am not alwayes soe:

When thou dost shine, a Sunshine day I have:
When I am cloudy then I finde not thee:
When thou dost cloud thy face, thy Face I crave.
The Shining of thy face enlivens mee.
I live and dy as Smiles and Frowns take place:
The Life, and Death of Joy Lodge in thy face.

But yet methinks my pipkin is too small.
It holds too little of Loves liquour in't.
All that it holds for thee seems none at all.
Thou art so dear, it is too cheape a Drink.
If I had more thou shouldst have more of mee
If Better, better too. I all give thee.

If thou, my Lord, didst not accept a mite
More than a mountain, if the mite doth hold
More than a mountain of the heart Love right
I should be blankt, my heart would grow so cold.
A Quarter of a Farthen halfe a mite
Of Love thou likest well, its heart delight.

Then let thy Loveliness, Lord touch my heart.
And let my heart imbrace thy loveliness:
That my small mite of Love might on thee dart,
And thy great selfe might my poor love possess.
My little mite of Love shall musick sweet
Tune forth on thee, its harp, that heaven shall greet.





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