Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PALM SUNDAY, by HENRY VAUGHAN



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PALM SUNDAY, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Come, drop your branches, strow the way
Last Line: But one green branch and a white robe.
Alternate Author Name(s): Silurist
Subject(s): Palm Sunday


Come, drop your branches, strow the way,
Plants of the day!
Whom sufferings make most green and gay.

The King of grief, the man of sorrow
Weeping still, like the wet morrow,
Your shades and freshness comes to borrow.

Put on, put on your best array;
Let the joyed road make holy-day,
And flowers that into fields do stray,
Or secret groves, keep the highway.

Trees, flowers and herbs, birds, beasts and stones,
That since man fell, expect with groans
To see the Lamb, which all at ones,
Lift up your heads and leave your moans!

For here comes he
Whose death will be
Man's life, and your full liberty.

Hark! how the children shrill and high
Hosanna cry,
Their joys provoke the distant sky,
Where thrones and seraphins reply,
And their own angels shine and sing
In a bright ring:
Such young, sweet mirth
Makes heaven and earth
Join in a joyful symphony.

The harmless, young and happy ass,
Seen long before this came to pass,
Is in these joys an high partaker
Ordained, and made to bear his Maker.

Dear feast of palms, of flowers and dew!
Whose fruitful dawn sheds hopes and lights;
Thy bright solemnities did shew
The third glad day through two sad nights.

I'll get me up before the sun,
I'll cut me boughs off many a tree,
And all alone full early run
To gather flowers to welcome thee.

Then like the palm, though wrong, I'll bear,
I will be still a child, still meek
As the poor ass, which the proud jeer,
And only my dear Jesus seek.

If I lose all, and must endure
The proverbed griefs of holy Job,
I care not, so I may secure
But one green branch and a white robe.





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