Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 39, by EDWARD TAYLOR



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PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 39, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Poor wither'd crickling, my lord, am I
Last Line: In death upon the resurrection doore.
Subject(s): Puritans In Literature


Poor wither'd Crickling, My lord, am I
Whose shrunke up Skin hidebounds my kirnell so
That Love its Vitall Sparke's so squeezd thereby
'T must breake the prisons Walls ere it can go
Unto thyselfe. Hence let thy warm beams just
Make it to grow that it may breake its husk.

Love like to hunger'll breake through stone strong Walls.
Nay brazen Walls cannot imprison it
Up from its object, when its object calls
In Beams attractive falling on it thick.
My Chilly Love sick of the Ague lies.
Lord touch it with thy Sun shine, make it rise.

Death shall not deaden it, while thy Sun shines.
The keyes of Hell, and Death are at thy Side.
Thy Conquoring Powre draws ore the grave thy lines,
Whose darksom Dungeon thy dead body tri'de.
Thou hast Death's Shady Region Conquoured
Rose, as the Sun, up First born from the Dead.

First Fruits of them that sleep to sanctify
The Harvest all, thou art. Thou art therefore
The First born from the Dead in Dignity
In kinde, Cause, Order, to dy, and rise no more,
As those raisd up before must, whose Erection
Rather Reduction was than Resurrection.

Thy Humane Nature in the Cock-Pit dread,
Like as the morning birds when day peeps, strout
Stands Crowing ore the Grave, laid Death there dead,
And ore its Carkass neckt, doth Crow about,
Throws down the Prison doors, comes out, and lay
Them ope that th'Prisoners may come away.

But Lord strike down the iron Gate also
Of Spirituall Death. Unprison thus my Soule.
Breath in the Realm of Life on it bestow,
And in thy Heavenly Records me enrowle.
And then my bird shall Crow thus roosted high
Death, where's thy Sting? Grave, where's thy Victory?

The Golden Twist of Unity Divine
Lord make the Ligaments to ty mee fast
Unto thyselfe, a Member with this twine
Binde me to thee, For this will ever last.
My Tunes shall rap thy prayses then good Store
In Death upon the Resurrection Doore.





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