Heaven
O who will show me those delights on high? Echo. I.
Thou Echo, thou art mortall, all men know. Echo. No.
Wert thou not born among the trees and leaves? Echo. Leaves.
And are there any leaves, that still abide? Echo. Bide.
What leaves are they? impart the matter wholly. Echo. Holy.
Are holy leaves the Echo then of blisse? Echo. Yes.
Then tell me what is that supreme delight? Echo. Light.
Light to the minde: what shall the will enjoy? Echo. Joy.
But are there cares and businesse with the pleasure? Echo. Leisure.
Light, joy, and leisure; but shall they persever? Echo. Ever.
George Herbert
Other author posts
The Altar from the Temple
A broken A L T A R, Lord, thy servant reares, Made of a heart, and cemented with teares: Whose parts are as thy hand did frame; No workmans tool hath touch’d the same A H E A R T alone Is such a stone, As nothing but Thy pow’r doth cut<b...
Mortification
How soon doth man decay When clothes are taken from a chest of sweets To swaddle infants, whose young breath Scarce knows the way; Those clouts are little winding-sheets, Which do consigne and send them unto Death When boyes go firs...
Easter Wings
Lord, Who createdst man in wealth and store, Though foolishly he lost the same, Decaying more and more, Till he became Most poore: With Thee O let me rise, As larks, harmoniously, And sing this day Thy victories: Then shall the fall furt...
Paradise
I SE thee, Lord, because I G R O Among thy trees, which in a R O
