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Classic and Contemporary Poetry


JESUS WEEPING (1) by HENRY VAUGHAN

Poet Analysis

First Line: BLESSED, UNHAPPY CITY! DEARLY LOVED
Last Line: WILL NOTHING YIELD BUT THORNS TO WOUND THY HEAD.

Blessed, unhappy city! dearly loved
But still unkind! art this day nothing moved?
Art senseless still? O can'st thou sleep
When God himself for thee doth weep!
Stiff-necked Jews! your fathers' breed
That served the calf, not Abr'am's seed,
Had not the babes @3Hosanna@1 cried,
The stones had spoke, what you denied.

Dear Jesus weep on! pour this latter
Soul-quick'ning rain, this living water
On their dead hearts; but (O my fears!)
They will drink blood, that despise tears.
My dear, bright Lord! my Morning-star!
Shed this live-dew on fields which far
From hence long for it! shed it there,
Where the starved earth groans for one tear!

This land, though with thy heart's blest extract fed,
Will nothing yield but thorns to wound thy head.



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