3 min read
Слушать

News

News from a foreign country came,    As if my treasures and my joys lay there;        So much it did my heart inflame,    'Twas wont to call my soul into mine ear;           Which thither went to meet              Th' approaching sweet,           And on the threshold stood        To entertain the secret good;              It hover'd there          As if 'twould leave mine ear,       And was so eager to embrace       Th' expected tidings as they came,       That it could change its dwelling place          To meet the voice of fame.       As if new tidings were the things   Which did comprise my wished unknown treasure,       Or else did bear them on their wings,   With so much joy they came, with so much pleasure,          My soul stood at the gate             To recreate          Itself with bliss, and woo       Its speedier approach; a fuller view             It fain would take,          Yet journeys back would make       Unto my heart, as if 'twould fain       Go out to meet, yet stay within,       Fitting a place to entertain          And bring the tidings in.       What sacred instinct did inspire   My soul in childhood with an hope so strong?       What secret force mov'd my desire   T' expect my joys beyond the seas, so young?          Felicity I knew             Was out of view;          And being left alone,       I thought all happiness was gone             From earth; for this          I long'd for absent bliss,       Deeming that sure beyond the seas,       Or else in something near at hand       Which I knew not, since nought did please          I knew, my bliss did stand.       But little did the infant dream   That all the treasures of the world were by,       And that himself was so the cream   And crown of all which round about did lie.          Yet thus it was!

The gem,             The diadem,          The ring enclosing all       That stood upon this earthen ball;             The heav'nly eye,          Much wider than the sky,       Wherein they all included were;       The love, the soul, that was the king       Made to possess them, did appear          A very little thing.

0
0
52
Give Award

Thomas Traherne

Thomas Traherne (1636 or 1637 – c. 27 September 1674) was an English poet, clergyman, theologian, and religious writer. The intense, scholarly s…

Other author posts

Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments

Reading today

Ryfma
Ryfma is a social app for writers and readers. Publish books, stories, fanfics, poems and get paid for your work. The friendly and free way for fans to support your work for the price of a coffee
© 2024 Ryfma. All rights reserved 12+