Richard Crashaw

(1612 - 1649 / England)

Richard Crashaw Poems

1. To Our Lord, Upon The Water Made Wine 4/10/2010
2. Upon Ford's Two Tragedies 4/10/2010
3. The Widow's Mites 4/10/2010
4. To The Noblest And Best Of Ladies, The Countess Of Denbigh 4/10/2010
5. Satan 4/10/2010
6. To The Name Above Every Name, The Name Of Jesus 1/1/2004
7. The Recommendation 1/1/2004
8. Saint Mar Magdelene; Or, The Weeper 4/10/2010
9. Two Went Up Into The Temple To Pray 1/1/2004
10. Upon The Book And Picture Of The Seraphical Saint Teresa 1/4/2003
11. Verses From The Shepherds' Hymn 1/4/2003
12. On The Baptized Ethiopian 4/10/2010
13. On The Sepulchre Of Our Lord 4/10/2010
14. On The Water Of Our Lord's Baptism 4/10/2010
15. On The Still Surviving Marks Of Our Saviour's 4/10/2010
16. Wishes To His (Supposed) Mistress 1/13/2003
17. Samson To His Delilah 4/10/2010
18. Charitas Nimia; Or, The Dear Bargain 4/10/2010
19. The Weeper 1/4/2003
20. On The Prodigal 4/10/2010
21. On Marriage 4/10/2010
22. Euthanasia 4/10/2010
23. A Hymn To The Name And Honour Of The Admirable Saint Teresa 1/4/2003
24. Divine Epigrams: Samson To His Delilah 1/1/2004
25. Music's Duel 4/10/2010
26. The Flaming Heart 1/1/2004
27. On The Miracle Of The Multiplied Loaves 4/10/2010
28. In The Holy Nativity Of Our Lord 1/1/2004
29. Divine Epigrams: On The Baptized Ethiopian 1/1/2004
30. On Mr. G. Herbert's Book, Entitled The Temple Of Sacred Poe 1/1/2004
31. Divine Epigrams: On The Miracle Of The Multiplied Loaves 1/1/2004
32. Prayer 1/1/2004
33. Christ Crucified 1/4/2003
34. But Men Loved Darkness Rather Than Light 1/1/2004
35. A Song 1/1/2004
36. Divine Epigrams: To Our Lord, Upon The Water Made Wine 1/1/2004
37. An Epitaph Upon Husband And Wife 1/1/2004

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Best Poem of Richard Crashaw

An Epitaph Upon Husband And Wife

TO these whom death again did wed
This grave 's the second marriage-bed.
For though the hand of Fate could force
'Twixt soul and body a divorce,
It could not sever man and wife,
Because they both lived but one life.
Peace, good reader, do not weep;
Peace, the lovers are asleep.
They, sweet turtles, folded lie
In the last knot that love could tie.
Let them sleep, let them sleep on,
Till the stormy night be gone,
And the eternal morrow dawn;
Then the curtains will be drawn,
And they wake into a light
Whose day shall never die in night.

Read the full of An Epitaph Upon Husband And Wife


LO here a little volume, but great Book
A nest of new-born sweets;
Whose native fires disdaining
To ly thus folded, and complaining
Of these ignoble sheets,
Affect more comly bands
(Fair one) from the kind hands
And confidently look
To find the rest

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