Stupendious Love! All Saints Astonishment! Bright Angells are black Motes in this Suns Light. Heav'ns Canopy the Paintice to Gods tent Can't Cover't neither with its breadth, nor height. Its Glory doth all Glory else out run, Beams of bright Glory to't are motes i'th'sun. My Soule had Caught an Ague, and like Hell Her thirst did burn: she to each spring did fly, But this bright blazing Love did spring a Well Of Aqua-Vitae in the Deity, Which on the top of Heav'ns high Hill out burst And down came running thence t'allay my thirst. But how it came, amazeth all Communion. Gods onely Son doth hug Humanity, Into his very person. By which Union His Humane Veans its golden gutters ly. And rather than my Soule should dy by thirst, These Golden Pipes, to give me drink, did burst. This Liquour brew'd, thy sparkling Art Divine Lord, in thy Chrystall Vessells did up tun, (Thine Ordinances,) which all Earth o're shine Set in thy rich Wine Cellars out to run. Lord, make thy Butlar draw, and fill with speed My Beaker full: for this is drink indeed. Whole Buts of this blesst Nectar shining stand Lockt up with Saph'rine Taps, whose splendid Flame Too bright do shine for brightest Angells hands To touch, my Lord. Do thou untap the same. Oh! make thy Chrystall Buts of Red Wine bleed Into my Chrystall Glass this Drink-Indeed. How shall I praise thee then? My blottings Jar And wrack my Rhymes to pieces in thy praise. Thou breath'st thy Vean still in my Pottinger To lay my thirst, and fainting spirits raise. Thou makest Glory's Chiefest Grape to bleed Into my cup: And this is Drink-Indeed. Nay, though I make no pay for this Red Wine, And scarce do say I thank-ye-for't; strange thing! Yet were thy silver skies my Beer bowle fine I finde my Lord, would fill it to the brim. Then make my life, Lord, to thy praise proceed For thy rich blood, which is my Drink-Indeed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAST GOODBYE by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON THE HONEYSUCKLE by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE MASK OF ANARCHY; WRITTEN ON OCCASION OF MASSACRE AT MANCHESTER by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY IF WE KNEW; OR, BLESSINGS OF TO-DAY by MAY LOUISE RILEY SMITH SONNET PREFIXED TO 'NENNIO, OR A TREATISE OF NOBILITY' by EDMUND SPENSER INTEGRITY by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |