Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 144, by EDWARD TAYLOR


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 144, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Eternal majesty, my blessed lord
Last Line: Trumpet thy glory and with gracious skill.
Subject(s): Puritans In Literature


Eternal Majesty, my blessed Lord,
Art thou into thy Nutty Garden come?
To se the Vallys fruits on thy accord:
Whether thy Vines do flowrish and thick hange
To se whether thy Pomegranates do bud,
And that thy nuttree gardens fruit is good?

Am I a grafted Branch in th' true Vine?
Or planted Pomegranat thy Garden in
And do I flowerish as a note of Wine?
And do my pomegranates now bud and spring?
Oh let my blossoms and my Buds turn fruite
Lest fruitless I suffer thy prooning Hook.

And with thy Spirituall Physick purge thou mee:
My very Essence that much fruite't may beare,
Most joyous and delightfull unto thee.
The Spirituall Grapes and Pomegranates most fare.
If in thy Nut Tree Garden I am found
Barren thy prooning knife will Cut and Wound.

If in thy nuttery, I should be found
To beare no Nutmegs, Almonds, but a nut
All Wormeate, or in barrenness abound
I well may feare thy prooning hook will Cut
And Cut me off as is the fruitless Vine:
That evermore doth fruitfulness decline.

But when thou in thy garden dost descend
And findst my branch clusterd with spirituall Grapes;
And my trees limbs with fruits downward to bend,
Each bows full reev'd with Spirituall Pomegranates.
My Vines and blossom and the Grapes thereon
Will smell indeed like Smell of Lebanon.

Shall this poore barren mould of mine e're bee
Planted with Spirituall Vines and pomegranates?
Whose Bud and Blossome flowrish shall to thee?
And with perfumed joys thee graciate?
Then Spirituall joyes flying on Spicy Wings
Shall entertain thee in thy Visitings.

And if thou makest mee to be thy mold
Though Clayey mould I bee, and run in mee
Thy Spirits Gold, thy Trumpet all of gold,
Though I be Clay Ist thy Gold-Trumpet bee.
Then in Angelick melody I will
Trumpet thy Glory and with gracious Skill.





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