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On the still surviving Marks of our Saviour's

On the still surviving Marks of our Saviour's

Whatever story of their cruelty,

Or nail, or thorn, or spear have writ in Thee,

Are in another sense

Still legible ;

Sweet is the difference :

Once I did spell

Every red letter

A wound of Thine ;

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by Richard Crashaw

Prayer

Prayer

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

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by Richard Crashaw

On the Sepulchre of our Lord

On the Sepulchre of our Lord

Here, where our Lord once laid his Head,

Now the grave lies buried.

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by Richard Crashaw

Satan

Satan

Below the bottom of the great Abyss,

There where one centre reconciles all things,

The world's profound heart pants; there placed is

Mischief's old Master! close about him clings

A curled knot of embracing snakes, that kiss

His correspondent cheeks: these loathsome strings

Hold the perverse prince in eternal ties,

Fast bound since first he forfeited the skies.

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by Richard Crashaw

Two Went up into the Temple to Pray

Two Went up into the Temple to Pray

Two went to pray? O rather say

One went to brag, th' other to pray:

One stands up close and treads on high,

Where th' other dares not send his eye.

One nearer to God's altar trod,

The other to the altar's God.

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by Richard Crashaw

The Widow's Mites

The Widow's Mites

Two mites, two drops, yet all her house and land,

Fall from a steady heart, though trembling hand :

The other's wanton wealth foams high, and brave ;

The other cast away, she only gave.

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by Richard Crashaw

But Men Loved Darkness rather than Light

But Men Loved Darkness rather than Light

The world's light shines, shine as it will,

The world will love its darkness still.

I doubt though when the world's in hell,

It will not love its darkness half so well.

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by Richard Crashaw

An Epitaph upon Husband and Wife Who died and were buried together

An Epitaph upon Husband and Wife Who died and were buried together

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.

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by Richard Crashaw

On Marriage

On Marriage

I would be married, but I'd have no wife ;

I would be married to a single life.

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by Richard Crashaw

Music's Duel

Music's Duel

Now westward Sol had spent the richest beams

Of noon's high glory, when, hard by the streams

Of Tiber, on the scene of a green plat,

Under protection of an oak, there sat

A sweet lute's master : in whose gentle airs

He lost the day's heat, and his own hot cares.

Close in the covert of the leaves there stood

A nightingale, come from the neighbouring wood :—

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by Richard Crashaw

On Mr G Herbert's Book, Entitled The Temple : Sacred Poems

On Mr G Herbert's Book, Entitled The Temple : Sacred Poems

Know you, fair, on what you look ?

Divinest love lies in this book,

Expecting fire from your eyes,

To kindle this His sacrifice.

When your hands untie these strings,

Think you've an angel by the wings ;

One that gladly will be nigh

To wait upon each morning sigh,

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by Richard Crashaw

To the Name above every Name, the Name of Jesus

To the Name above every Name, the Name of Jesus

I sing the Name which None can say

But touch’t with An interiour Ray:

The Name of our New Peace; our Good:

Our Blisse: and Supernaturall Blood:

The Name of All our Lives and Loves.

Hearken, And Help, ye holy Doves!

The high-born Brood of Day; you bright

Candidates of blissefull Light,

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by Richard Crashaw