Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, EASTER, by JOSEPH BEAUMONT



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EASTER, by            
First Line: Slow phoebus thou hast slept too long
Last Line: Now he, our head revived doth appeare.
Subject(s): Easter; Holidays; Jesus Christ; Resurrection, The; The Resurrection


SLOW Phoebus thou hast slept too long;
Our earlyer song
Long since awake attended on
A Fairer Sun:
A Sun, whose Rise
Summond our Eyes
Betimes to pay their Morning Sacrifice.

Thou quite hast lost this noble Day:
A richer Ray
Prevented thine, & gilds ye skie
With Majestie
Great Jesus light
Hath broke from Night
And sweetly woo's the Worlds admiring Sight.

As from her Morning balmy Nest
All over drest
With new borne beauties Thou hast seene
The radiant Queen
Of Birds appeare;
So riseth here
A more then Phoenix in our Hemispheare.

His Native Tombe was sweetned more
With odorous store
Of Libanus and Arabie:
Or rather they
Perfumed were
By kissing here
The feet of Him, in whom all Odours are.

Nor could ye Phaenix ever gaine
So far a Traine
Of wing'd Attendants; Paradise
Now hither flies
Upon ye Wings
Of these Sweet Things
In whose eternall Song Gods Glorie rings.

For Angells shining all in white
Answer ye Light
Of this fair Day; & wait upon
The reverend stone
Which was ye Bed
Where He lay dead
And where He springs afresh inlivened.

Yet may We Night-birds too have leave
To Day to heave
Our swarthy Wings, & joine with Them
To wait on Him,
And His fair East,
Which knows no West
Wherby its glorious Day might be supprest.

Especially seing His Great Rise
All ours implies,
And draws them after it, all We
Aforehand be
With Death & are
Past its cold feare
Now He, our Head revived doth appeare.





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