Regeneration

Here's a poem by 17^th-century Welsh poet Henry Vaughan with a few notes.

Award, and still in bonds, one day

I stole abroad,

It was high-spring, and all the way

Primros'd, and hung with shade;

Yet, was it frost within,

And surly winds

Blasted my infant buds, and sin

Like clouds eclips'd my mind.

Storm'd thus; I straight perceiv'd my spring

Mere stage, and show,

My walk a monstrous, mountain's thing

Rough-cast with rocks, and snow;

And as a pilgrim's eye

Far from relief,

Measures the melancholy sky

Then drops, and rains for grief,

So sigh'd I upwards still, at last

'Twixt steps, and falls

I reach'd the pinnacle, where plac'd

I found a pair of scales,

I took them up and laid

In th'one late pains,

The other smoke, and pleasures weigh'd

But prov'd the heavier grains;

With that, some cried, Away; straight I

Obey'd, and led

Full east, a fair, fresh field could spy

Some call'd it Jacob's Bed;

A virgin-soil, which no

Rude feet ere trod,

Where (since he slept there,) only go

Prophets, and friends of God.

Here, I repos'd; but scarce well set,

A grove descried

Of stately height, whose branches met

And mixed on every side;

I entered, and once in

(Amaz'd to see't,)

Found all was chang'd, and a new spring

Did all my senses greet;

The unthrift sun shot vital gold

A thousand pieces,

And heaven its azure did unfold

Checker'd with snowy fleeces,

The air was all in spice

And every bush

A garland wore; thus fed my eyes

But all the ear lay hush.

Only a little fountain lent

Some use for ears,

And on the dumb shades language spent

The music of her tears;

I drew her near, and found

The cistern full

Of diverse stones, some bright, and round

Others ill'shap'd, and dull.

The first (pray mark,) as quick as light

Danc'd through the flood,

But, th'last more heavy than the night

Nail'd to the center stood;

I wonder'd much, but tir'd

At last with thought,

My restless eye that still desir'd

As strange an object brought;

It was a bank of flowers, where I descried

(Though 'twas mid'day,)

Some fast asleep, others broad-eyed

And taking in the ray,

Here musing long, I heard

A rushing wind

Which still increas'd, but whence it stirr'd

No where I could not find;

I turn'd me round, and to each shade

Dispatch'd an eye,

To see, if any leaf had made

Least motion, or reply,

But while I listening sought

My mind to ease

By knowing, where 'twas, or where not,

It whispered: Where I please.

Lord, then said I, On me one breath,

And let me die before my death!

Enjoy.



Pastor Rod

"Helping You Become the Person God Created You to Be"