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Silence And Stealth Of Days

Silence, and stealth of days! 'tis now             Since thou art gone,

Twelve hundred hours, and not a brow             But clouds hang on.

As he that in some cave's thick damp             Lockt from the light,

Fixeth a solitary lamp,             To brave the night,

And walking from his sun, when past             That glim'ring ray Cuts through the heavy mists in haste             Back to his day,

So o'r fled minutes I retreat             Unto that hour Which show'd thee last, but did defeat             Thy light, and power,

I search, and rack my soul to see             Those beams again,

But nothing but the snuff to me             Appeareth plain;

That dark and dead sleeps in its known             And common urn,

But those fled to their Maker's throne             There shine and burn;

O could I track them! but souls must             Track one the other,

And now the spirit, not the dust,             Must be thy brother.

Yet I have one Pearl by whose light             All things I see,

And in the heart of earth and night             Find heaven and thee.

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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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