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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
UNPROFITABLENESS, by HENRY VAUGHAN Poet Analysis Poet's Biography
First Line: How rich, o lord! How fresh thy visits are!
Last Line: The odour I bequeath.
Alternate Author Name(s): Silurist
First Line: How rich, o lord! How fresh thy visits are!
Last Line: The odour I bequeath.
Alternate Author Name(s): Silurist
How rich, O Lord! how fresh thy visits are!
'Twas but just now my bleak leaves hopeless hung
Sullied with dust and mud;
Each snarling blast shot through me, and did share
Their youth and beauty, cold showers nipped and wrung
Their spiciness and blood;
But since thou didst in one sweet glance survey
Their sad decays, I flourish, and once more
Breathe all perfumes and spice;
I smell a dew like myrrh, and all the day
Wear in my bosom a full Sun; such store
Hath one beam from thy eyes.
But, ah, my God! what fruit hast thou of this?
What one poor leaf did ever I yet fall
To wait upon thy wreath?
Thus thou all day a thankless weed dost dress,
And when th' hast done, a stench, or fog is all
The odour I bequeath.