Richard Crashaw (1613 – 1649)
English poet, styled "the divine," was part of the Seventeenth-century Metaphysical School of poets.
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Days that need borrow
No part of their good morrow
From a fore-spent night of sorrow.
Where’er she lie,
Locked up from mortal eye,
In shady leaves of destiny.
Sydneian showers
Of sweet discourse, whose powers
Can crown old Winter’s head with flowers.
A happy soul, that all the way
To heaven hath a summer’s day.
Whoe’er she be,
That not impossible she,
That shall command my heart and me.
The conscious water saw its God and blushed.
Thou water turn'st to wine, fair friend of life;
Thy foe, to cross the sweet arts of Thy reign,
Distils from thence the tears of wrath and strife,
And so turns wine to water back again.
Life that dares send
A challenge to his end,
And when it comes, say, Welcome, friend!
The modest front of this small floor,
Believe me, reader, can say more
Than many a braver marble can,—
“Here lies a truly honest man!”
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