Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE MUTINY, by HENRY VAUGHAN Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Weary of this same clay and straw, I laid Last Line: Both live and die thy child. Alternate Author Name(s): Silurist | ||||||||
Weary of this same clay and straw, I laid Me down to breathe, and casting in my heart The after-burthens and griefs yet to come, The heavy sum So shook my breast, that (sick and sore dismayed) My thoughts, like water which some stone doth start, Did quit their troubled channel, and retire Unto the banks, where, storming at those bounds, They murmured sore; but I, who felt them boil And knew their coil, Turning to him, who made poor sand to tire And tame proud waves, If yet these barren grounds And thirsty brick must be (said I) My task and destiny, 2 Let me so strive and struggle with thy foes (Not thine alone, but mine too) that when all Their arts and force are built unto the height That Babel-weight May prove thy glory and their shame; so close And knit me to thee, that though in this vale Of sin and death I sojourn, yet one eye May look to thee, to thee the finisher And Author of my faith; so show me home That all this foam And frothy noise which up and down doth fly May find no lodging in mine eye or ear, O seal them up! that these may fly Like other tempests by. 3 Not but I know thou hast a shorter cut To bring me home, than through a wilderness, A sea, or sands and serpents; yet since thou (As thy words show) Though in this desert I were wholly shut, Canst light and lead me there with such redress That no decay shall touch me; O be pleased To fix my steps, and whatsoever path Thy sacred and eternal will decreed For thy bruised reed O give it full obedience, that so seized Of all I have, I may nor move thy wrath Nor grieve thy Dove, but soft and mild Both live and die thy Child. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest... |
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