Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PREPAPATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 47, by EDWARD TAYLOR


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PREPAPATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 47, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Strang, strang indeed. It rowell doth my heart
Last Line: And when I'm in't ile tune an higher pin.
Subject(s): Puritans In Literature


Strang, strang indeed. It rowell doth my heart
With pegs of Greefe, and tents of greatest joy:
When I wore Angells Glory in each part
And all my skirts wore flashes of rich die
Of Heavenly Colour, hedg'd in with rosie Reechs,
A spider spit its Vomit on my Cheeks.

This ranckling juyce bindg'd in its cursed stain
Doth permeat both Soul and Body: soile
And drench each Fibre, and infect each grain.
Its ugliness swells over all the ile.
Whose stain'd mishapen bulk's too high, and broad
For th'Entry of the narrow gate to God.

Ready to burst, thus, and to burn in hell:
Now in my path I finde a Waybred spring
Whose leafe drops balm that doth this venom quell
And juyce's a Bath, that doth all stains out bring
And sparkling beauty in the room convay.
Lord feed me with this Waybred Leafe, I pray.

My stain will out: and swelling swage apace.
And holy Lusters on my shape appeare.
All Rosie Buds: and Lilly flowers of grace
Will grace my turfe with sweet sweet glory here.
Under whose shades Angells will bathing play
Who'l guard my Pearle to glory, hous'd in clay.

Those Gates of Pearle, porter'd with Seraphims,
On their carbuncle joynts will open wide.
And entrance give me where all glory swims
In to the Masters Joy, e're to abide.
O sweet sweet thought. Lord take this praise though thin.
And when I'm in't Ile tune an higher pin.





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