When long absent from lovëly Sion By the Lords conduct home we returned We our own senses scarcely beleiving Thought meere visions moved our fancy Then in our merry mouths laughter abounded Tongues with gladness lowdly resounded While thus wondring Nations whisperd God with them most royally dealeth. Most true with us Thou royaly dealest Woe is expired sorrow is vanished Now Lord to finish throughly Thy working Bring to Jerusalem all that are exiles. Bring to Jerusalem all that are exiles So by Thy comfort lively refreshed As when southern sunburnt Regions Be by Cold fountains freshly releived. Oft to the ploughman, so good hap hapneth What with teares to the ground he bequeatheth Season of harvest timely returning He before wofull joyfuly reapeth. Why to us may not as happily happen To sow our buisiness wofuly weeping Yet when buisiness growes to due ripeness To see our buisiness joyfuly reaped | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SAVING WAY by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE HILL WIFE: LONELINESS by ROBERT FROST THE SLEEPING BEAUTY by MATHILDE BLIND SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 37 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING SIDNEY'S ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: CANTO TERTIO. KISSES by THOMAS CAMPION |