Classic and Contemporary Poetry
PREPAPATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 48, by EDWARD TAYLOR Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: When I, lord, eye thy joy, and my love, small Last Line: For joy thy praise while teather'd to my clay. Subject(s): Puritans In Literature | ||||||||
When I, Lord, eye thy Joy, and my Love, small, My heart gives in: what now? Strange! Sure I love thee! And finding brambles 'bout my heart to crawl My heart misgives mee. Prize I ought above thee? Such great Love hugging them, such small Love, thee! Whether thou hast my Love, I scarce can see. My reason rises up, and chides my Cup Bright Loveliness itselfe. What not love thee! Tumbling thy Joy, Lord, ore, it rounds me up. Shall loves nest be a thorn bush: not thee bee? Set Hovells up of thorn kids in my heart! Avant adultrous Love. From me depart. The Influences my vile heart sucks in Of Puddle Water boyld by Sunn beams till Its Spiritless, and dead, nothing more thin Tasts wealthier than those thou dost distill. This seems to numb my heart to think that I Should null all good to optimate a toy. Yet when the beamings, Lord, of thy rich Joys, Do guild my Soule, meethinks I'm sure I love thee. They Calcine all these brambly trumperys And now I'm sure that I prize naught above thee. Thy beams making a bonefire of my Stack Of Faggots, bring my Love to thee in'ts pack. For when the Objects of thy Joy impress Their shining influences on my heart My Soule seems an Alembick doth possess Love stilld into rich Spirits by thy Art. And all my pipes, were they ten thousand would Drop Spirits of Love on thee, more rich than gold. Now when the world with all her dimples in't Smiles on me, I do love thee more than all: And when her glory freshens, all in print, I prize thee still above it all. And shall. Nay all her best to thee, do what she can, Drops but like drops dropt in a Closestoole pan. The Castings of thy Joy, my Lord therefore Let in the Cabbin of my Joy rise high, And let thy Joy enter in mee before I enter do into my masters joy. Thy joyes in mee will make my Pipes to play For joy thy Praise while teather'd to my clay. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GOD'S DETERMINATIONS: THE JOY OF CHURCH FELLOWSHIP RIGHTLY ATTENDED by EDWARD TAYLOR GOD'S DETERMINATIONS: THE PREFACE by EDWARD TAYLOR PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 1 by EDWARD TAYLOR PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 32 by EDWARD TAYLOR PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 38 by EDWARD TAYLOR PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 8 by EDWARD TAYLOR PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 3 by EDWARD TAYLOR PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 56 by EDWARD TAYLOR GOD'S DETERMINATIONS: CHRIST'S REPLY by EDWARD TAYLOR GOD'S DETERMINATIONS: THE JOY OF CHURCH FELLOWSHIP RIGHTLY ATTENDED by EDWARD TAYLOR |
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