George Herbert

George Herbert

George Herbert (3 April 1593 – 1 March 1633)[1] was a Welsh-born poet, orator, and priest of the Church of England. His poetry is associated with the writings of the metaphysical poets, and he is recognised as "one of the foremost British devotional lyricists.
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#peace2 мин. чтения

Peace

Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell
I humbly crave,                    Let me once know
I sought thee in a secret cave,            And ask'd, if Peace were there,
A hollow winde did seem to answer,

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#the storm2 мин. чтения

The Storm

If as the windes and waters here below Do flie and flow,
My sighs and tears as busy were above; Sure they would move And much affect thee, as tempestuous times Amaze poore mortals, and object their crimes
Starres have their storms, ev'n ...

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#the forerunners2 мин. чтения

The Forerunners

The harbingers are come
See, see their mark;
White is their colour, and behold my head
But must they have my brain

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#the collar4 мин. чтения

The Collar

I struck the board, and cry'd,
No more;                    I will abroad
What
shall I ever sigh and pine

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#sinnes round2 мин. чтения

Sinnes Round

Sorrie I am, my God, sorrie I am,
That my offences course it in a ring
My thoughts are working like a busie flame,
Untill their cockatrice they hatch and bring:

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#jordan ii2 мин. чтения

Jordan II

When first my lines of heav'nly joyes made mention,
Such was their lustre, they did so excell,
That I sought out quaint words and trim invention;
My thoughts began to burnish, sprout, and swell,

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#charms2 мин. чтения

Charms And Knots

Who reade a chapter when they rise,
Shall ne're be troubled with ill eyes
A poore man's rod, when thou dost ride,
Is both a weapon and a guide

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#church-musick1 мин. чтения

Church-Musick

Sweetest of sweets,
I thank you: when displeasure Did through my bodie wound my minde,
You took me thence; and in your house of pleasure A daintie lodging me assign'd
Now I in you without a bodie move, Rising and falling with your w...

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#clasping2 мин. чтения

Clasping Of Hands

Lord,
Thou art mine, and I am Thine, If mine I am: and Thine much more Then I or ought, or can be mine
Yet to be Thine, doth me restore; So that again I now am mine, And with advantage mine the more
Since this being mine, brings wit...

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#a wreath1 мин. чтения

A Wreath

A wreathed garland of deserved praise,
Of praise deserved, unto thee I give,
I give to thee, who knowest all my wayes,
My crooked winding wayes, wherein I live,

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#the2 мин. чтения

The Flower

How fresh,
O Lord, how sweet and clean Are thy returns
ev'n as the flowers in spring;     To which, besides their own demean,
The late-past frosts tributes of pleasures bring

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#grief2 мин. чтения

Grief

O who will give me tears
Come, all ye springs,
Dwell in my head and eyes: come, clouds and rain:
My grief hath need of all the watry things,

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#the pilgrimage2 мин. чтения

The Pilgrimage

I travell'd on, seeing the hill, where lay My expectation
A long it was and weary way: The gloomy cave of DesperationI left on th' one, and on the other side The Rock of Pride
And so I came to Phansies medow strow'd With many a flower: F...

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#sunday3 мин. чтения

Sunday

O Day most calm, most bright The fruit of this, the next world's bud,
Th' endorsement of supreme delight,
Writ by a friend, and with his bloud;
The couch of Time;

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#man3 мин. чтения

Man

My God,
I heard this
That none doth build a stately habitation    But he that means to dwell therein
What house more stately hath there been,

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#love2 мин. чтения

Love

I
Immortal Love, authour of this great frame,
Sprung from that beautie which can never fade;
How hath man parcel'd out thy glorious name,

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