Henry Vaughan

(1621 - 23 April 1695 / Brecknockshire, Wales)

Midnight - Poem by Henry Vaughan

WHEN to my Eyes
Whilst deep sleep others catches,
Thine host of spies,
The stars, shine in their watches,
I do survey
Each busy ray,
And how they work, and wind ;
And wish each beam
My soul doth stream
With the like ardour shin'd ;
What emanations,
Quick vibrations,
And bright stirs are there !
What thin ejections,
Cold affections,
And slow motions here !
2.

Thy heav'ns, some say,
Are a fiery-liquid light,
Which mingling aye
Streams, and flames thus to the sight.
Come then, my God !
Shine on this blood
And water, in one beam ;
And Thou shalt see
Kindled by Thee
Both liquors burn, and stream.
O what bright quickness,
Active brightness,
And celestial flows,
Will follow after
On that water,
Which Thy Spirit blows !


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Poem Submitted: Monday, April 30, 2012

Poem Edited: Monday, April 30, 2012


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