|
|
|
Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE FEAST, by HENRY VAUGHAN Poet Analysis Poet's Biography
First Line: O come away
Last Line: And what in the next world to eat.
Alternate Author Name(s): Silurist
First Line: O come away
Last Line: And what in the next world to eat.
Alternate Author Name(s): Silurist
O come away,
Make no delay,
Come while my heart is clean and steady!
While Faith and Grace
Adorn the place,
Making dust and ashes ready.
No bliss here lent
Is permanent,
Such triumphs poor flesh cannot merit;
Short sips and sights
Endear delights,
Who seeks for more, he would inherit.
Come then true bread,
Quick'ning the dead,
Whose eater shall not, cannot die,
Come, antedate
On me that state
Which brings poor dust the victory.
Aye victory
Which from thine eye
Breaks as the day doth from the east,
When the spilt dew,
Like tears doth shew
The sad world wept to be released.
Spring up, O wine,
And springing shine
With some glad message from his heart,
Who did, when slain,
These means ordain
For me to have in him a part.
Such a sure part
In his blest heart,
The well, where living waters spring,
That with it fed
Poor dust though dead
Shall rise again, and live and sing.
O drink and bread
Which strikes death dead,
The food of man's immortal being!
Under veils here
Thou art my cheer,
Present and sure without my seeing.
How dost thou fly
And search and pry
Through all my parts, and like a quick
And knowing lamp
Hunt out each damp,
Whose shadow makes me sad or sick?
O what high joys!
The turtle's voice
And songs I hear! O quick'ning showers
Of my Lord's blood,
You make rocks bud
And crown dry hills with wells and flowers!
For this true ease,
This healing peace,
For this taste of living glory,
My soul and all,
Kneel down and fall
And sing his sad victorious story.
O thorny crown
More soft than down!
O painful Cross, my bed of rest!
O spear, the key
Opening the way!
O thy worst state, my only best!
Oh! all thy griefs
Are my reliefs,
And all my sins, thy sorrows were!
And what can I,
To this reply;
What (O God!) but a silent tear?
Some toil and sow,
That wealth may flow,
And dress this earth for next year's meat:
But let me heed,
Why thou didst bleed,
And what in the next world to eat.