WIGGLESWORTH, MICHAEL (1631—1705), American clergyman and poet, was born in England, probably in Yorkshire, on the 18th of October 1631. His father, Edward (d. 1653), persecuted for his Puritan faith, emigrated with his family to New England in 1638 and settled in New Haven. Michael studied for a time at a school kept by Ezekiel Cheever, and in 1651 graduated at Harvard, where he was a tutor (and ... more »
Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.
Michael Wigglesworth Poems
The Day Of Doom
Still was the night, Serene & Bright, when all Men sleeping lay; Calm was the season, & carnal reason thought so 'twould last for ay.
A Prayer unto Christ
O Dearest Dread, most glorious King, I'le of thy justest Judgements sing: So thou my head and heart inspire,
To The Christian Reader
Reader, I am a fool; And have adventured To play the fool this once for Christ, The more his fame to spread.
Vanity of Vanities
A Song of Emptiness To Fill up the Empty Pages Following Vain, frail, short liv'd, and miserable Man,
A Short Discourse on Eternity
What Mortal man can with his Span mete out Eternity? Or fathom it by depth of Wit,
A Postscript unto the Reader
And now good Reader, I return again To talk with thee, who hast been at the pain To read throughout, and heed what went before;
Comments about Michael Wigglesworth
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
The Day Of Doom
Still was the night, Serene & Bright,
when all Men sleeping lay;
Calm was the season, & carnal reason
thought so 'twould last for ay.
Soul, take thine ease, let sorrow cease,
much good thou hast in store:
This was their Song, their Cups among,
the Evening before.
Wallowing in all kind of sin,
vile wretches lay secure:
The best of men had scarcely then
their Lamps kept in good ure.
Virgins unwise, who through disguise
amongst the best were number'd,
Had closed their eyes; yea, and the wise
through sloth and frailty slumber'd.
For at ...