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The Star

.   Whatever 'tis, whose beauty here below     Attracts thee thus and makes thee stream and flow,         And wind and curl, and wink and smile,             Shifting thy gate and guile;     Though thy close commerce nought at all imbars     My present search, for eagles eye not stars,         And still the lesser by the best             And highest good is blest;     Yet, seeing all things that subsist and be,    Have their commissions from divinity,        And teach us duty,

I will see            What man may learn from thee.    First,

I am sure, the subject so respected    Is well dispos'd, for bodies once infected,        Deprav'd, or dead, can have with thee            No hold, nor sympathy.    Next, there's in it a restless, pure desire    And longing for thy bright and vital fire,        Desire that never will be quench'd,            Nor can be writh'd, nor wrench'd.    These are the magnets which so strongly move    And work all night upon thy light and love,        As beauteous shapes, we know not why,            Command and guide the eye.    For where desire, celestial, pure desire    Hath taken root, and grows, and doth not tire,        There God a commerce states, and sheds            His secret on their heads.    This is the heart he craves, and who so will    But give it him, and grudge not, he shall feel        That God is true, as herbs unseen            Put on their youth and green.

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Henry Vaughan

Henry Vaughan (17 April 1621 – 23 April 1695) was a Welsh metaphysical poet, author, translator and physician, writing in English. He is chiefly…

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