Henry Vaughan

(1621 - 23 April 1695 / Brecknockshire, Wales)

Henry Vaughan Poems

1. The Daughter Of Herodias 4/30/2012
2. The Storm 4/30/2012
3. Thou That Know'st For Whom I Mourn 4/16/2010
4. The Shower (I) 4/16/2010
5. Vanity Of Spirit 4/16/2010
6. The Call 4/16/2010
7. The Dwelling-Place 4/16/2010
8. The Dedication 4/16/2010
9. Vain Wits And Eyes 4/16/2010
10. Rules And Lessons 4/16/2010
11. The Incarnation, And Passion 4/16/2010
12. The Night 4/16/2010
13. The Bird 4/16/2010
14. The Pursuit 4/16/2010
15. The Book 4/16/2010
16. Come, Come ! What Do I Here? 4/30/2012
17. Sweet Empty Sky Of June Without A Stain, 4/16/2010
18. The Dawning 4/16/2010
19. Content 4/30/2012
20. The Evening-Watch: A Dialogue 12/31/2002
21. As Time One Day By Me Did Pass 4/30/2012
22. The Relapse 1/3/2003
23. The Shepherds 1/3/2003
24. Upon The Priory Grove, His Usual Retirement 1/3/2003
25. Midnight 4/30/2012
26. The Nativity 1/3/2003
27. Mount Of Olives (I) 4/16/2010
28. Anguish 4/16/2010
29. Death. A Dialogue 4/16/2010
30. The Timber 1/3/2003
31. The Morning-Watch 12/31/2002
32. And Do They So? 4/16/2010
33. Joy Of My Life While Left Me Here! 4/16/2010
34. Boethius, De Consolatione Philosophiae : Liber 2. Metrum 5 4/16/2010
35. A Song To Amoret 4/16/2010
36. Cock-Crowing 4/16/2010
37. The Revival 12/31/2002
38. Son-Days 1/3/2003
39. The True Christians 1/3/2003
40. They Are All Gone Into The World Of Light 12/31/2002
Best Poem of Henry Vaughan

Peace

1 My Soul, there is a country
2 Afar beyond the stars,
3 Where stands a winged sentry
4 All skillful in the wars;
5 There, above noise and danger
6 Sweet Peace sits, crown'd with smiles,
7 And One born in a manger
8 Commands the beauteous files.
9 He is thy gracious friend
10 And (O my Soul awake!)
11 Did in pure love descend,
12 To die here for thy sake.
13 If thou canst get but thither,
14 There grows the flow'r of peace,
15 The rose that cannot wither,
16 Thy ...

Read the full of Peace

Etesia Absent

Love, the world's life! What a sad death
Thy absence is to lose our breath
At once and die, is but to live
Enlarged, without the scant reprieve
Of pulse and air: whose dull returns
And narrow circles the soul mourns.
But to be dead alive, and still
To wish, but never have our will:
To be possessed, and yet to miss;

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