Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE ASS, by HENRY VAUGHAN Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Thou! Who didst place me in this busy street Last Line: And bones rejoice, which once were broken! Alternate Author Name(s): Silurist | ||||||||
Thou! who didst place me in this busy street Of flesh and blood, where two ways meet: The One of goodness, peace and life, The other of death, sin and strife; Where frail visibles rule the mind, And present things find men most kind: Where obscure cares the mean defeat, And splendid vice destroys the great; As thou didst set no law for me, But that of perfect liberty, Which neither tires, nor doth corrode, But is a pillow, not a load: So give me grace ever to rest, And build on it, because the best; Teach both mine eyes and feet to move Within those bounds set by thy love; Grant I may soft and lowly be, And mind those things I cannot see; Tie me to faith, though above reason, Who question power, they speak treason: Let me thy Ass be only wise To carry, not search mysteries; Who carries thee, is by thee led, Who argues, follows his own head. To check bad motions, keep me still Amongst the dead, where thriving ill Without his brags and conquests lies, And truth (oppressed here) gets the prize. At all times, whatsoe'er I do, Let me not fail to question, who Shares in the act, and puts me to't? And if not thou, let not me do't. Above all, make me love the poor, Those burthens to the rich man's door, Let me admire those, and be kind To low estates, and a low mind. If the world offers to me ought, That by thy book must not be sought, Or though it should be lawful, may Prove not expedient for thy way; To shun that peril, let thy grace Prevail with me to shun the place. Let me be wise to please thee still, And let men call me what they will. When thus thy mild, instructing hand Finds thy poor foal at thy command, When he from wild is become wise, And slights that most, which men most prize; When all things here to thistles turn Pricking his lips, till he doth mourn And hang the head, sighing for those Pastures of life, where the Lamb goes: O then, just then! break or untie These bonds, this sad captivity, This leaden state, which men miscall Being and life, but is dead thrall. And when (O God!) the Ass is free, In a state known to none but thee; O let him by his Lord be led, To living springs, and there be fed Where light, joy, health and perfect peace Shut out all pain and each disease; Where death and frailty are forgotten, And bones rejoice, which once were broken! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest... |
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