George Herbert

(3 April 1593 – 1 March 1633 / Montgomery, Wales)

The H. Scriptures I - Poem by George Herbert

Oh Book! infinite sweetness! let my heart
Suck ev'ry letter, and a honey gain,
Precious for any grief in any part;
To clear the breast, to mollify all pain.
Thou art all health, health thriving, till it make
A full eternity: thou art a mass
Of strange delights, where we may wish and take.
Ladies, look here; this is the thankfull glass,
That mends the looker's eyes: this is the well
That washes what it shows. Who can endear
Thy praise too much? thou art heav'n's Lidger here,
Working against the states of death and hell.
Thou art joy's handsel: heav'n lies flat in thee,
Subject to ev'ry mounter's bended knee.


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Read poems about / on: grief, joy, pain, death, heart, work



Poem Submitted: Friday, November 28, 2003

Poem Edited: Monday, March 28, 2011


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