Henry Vaughan
Henry Vaughan
Henry Vaughanwas a Welsh author, physician and metaphysical poet...
NationalityWelsh
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth17 April 1622
syllables
Some syllables are swords.
spring wind clouds
A ward, and still in bonds, one day I stole abroad; It was high spring, and all the way Primrosed and hung with shade; Yet was it frost within, And surly winds Blasted my infant buds, and sin Like clouds eclipsed my mind.
stars enlightenment littles
For each inclosed spirit is a star Enlightening his own little sphere
sun routine late
Early, as well as late, Rise with the sun, and set in the same bowers
fighting men truth-is
As men are killed by fighting, the truth is lost in disputing.
flower rose ease
If thou canst but thither, There grows the flower of Peace, The Rose that cannot wither, Thy fortress and thy ease.
running home men
Man hath still either toys or care: But hath no root, nor to one place is tied, but ever restless and irregular, about this earth doth run and ride. He knows he hath a home, but scarce knows where; He says it is so far, that he has quite forgot how to go there.
moving fall men
Some men a forward motion love, But I by backward steps would move, And when this dust falls to the urn In that state I came, return.
fire soul common
I played with fire, did counsel spurn, Made life my common stake; But never thought that fire would burn, O that a soul could ache.
mean writing doors
Holy writing must strive (by all means) for perfection and true holiness, that a door may be opened to him in heaven.
night light saws
I saw Eternity the other night Like a great ring of pure and endless light, All calm as it was bright.
lying dark men
Dear, beauteous death, the jewel of the just! Shining nowhere but in the dark; What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, Could man outlook that mark!
views soil young
Still young and fine! but what is still in view We slight as old and soil'd, though fresh and new.
christmas spring ivy
So stick up ivy and the bays, and then restore the heathen ways, green will remind you of the Spring, though this great day denies the thing, and mortifies the earth, and all, but your wild revels, and loose hall.