Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 162, by EDWARD TAYLOR



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PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 162, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: A shadow, lord, not such as types show here
Last Line: Thy praise sweet to my tast my harp shall sing.
Subject(s): Puritans In Literature


A shadow, Lord, not such as types show here
Nor such as Titerus his broad Beech made
In which he with his Oat straw pipe't there
A Forrest march, such his dark blackish trade.
But tis a milke white Shadow sparkling bright
That doth excell all excellent delight.

It doth delight the Saints in glorious wise
As shadow of a rock in weary land.
It doth revive them when the Clouds arise
And maske the brows of heaven's bright shining hand.
Grace gilds this shade with brightsom shines Godward
And manward doth bring * * * a blest reward.

A Shadow not a scowling cloud that rose
Big belli'd with hard Cracks of frightful thunder
And rapid frightful firy flashes throws
A * * * * * with horrid rending thunder
Making the hinds to calve and Lebanon
To skip like to a frighted Unicorn.

A shade indeed * * * * did hap
* * * cluster of bright Angells * * * up
Made a Brave feather to adorn the Cap
Upon the Tabernakles * * * * *
By Day and Night the Camp as on they stand
Through the Wilderness to the promisd land.

Lord let this shadow as a Canopy
Catch all perfumes that from the Earth arise
* * * * * * * * * in to fill * * *
My drinking cup when squezd I shall it prize.
Then when my Crystall Cup grows full to the brim
Thy praise sweet to my tast my harp shall sing.





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