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1633.

A servant with this clause

Makes drudgery divine;

Who sweeps a room as for Thy laws
Makes that and th' action fine.

This is the famous stone

That turneth all to gold;

For that which God doth touch and own

Cannot for less be told.

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I GOT me flowers to straw Thy way,
I got me boughs off many a tree;
But Thou wast up by break of day,
And brought'st Thy sweets along with
Thee.

The sun arising in the East,

Though he give light, and th' East

perfume,

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1633.

If they should offer to contest
With Thy arising, they presume.

Yet though my flowers be lost, they say
A heart can never come too late;
Teach it to sing Thy praise this day,
And then this day my life shall date.

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George Herbert.

THE PULLEY

WHEN God at first made Man, Having a glass of blessings standing byLet us (said He) pour on him all we can; Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie, Contract into a span.

.So strength first made a way,

Then beauty flow'd, then wisdom, honour,
pleasure;

When almost all was out, God made a stay,
Perceiving that, alone of all His treasure,
Rest in the bottom lay.

For if I should (said He)

Bestow this jewel also on My creature,

He would adore My gifts instead of Me,

And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature:

So both should losers be.

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Yet let him keep the rest,

But keep them with repining restlessness;
Let him be rich and weary, that at least,
If goodness lead him not, yet weariness
May toss him to My breast.

1633.

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George Herbert.

VIRTUE

SWEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright!
The bridal of the earth and sky-
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night;
For thou must die.

Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,

Thy root is ever in its grave,

And thou must die.

Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie,

My music shows ye have your closes,
And all must die.

Only a sweet and virtuous soul,

Like season'd timber, never gives;

But though the whole world turn to coal,

Then chiefly lives.

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George Herbert.

1633.

LOVE TRIUMPHANT

E'EN like two little bank-dividing brooks, That wash the pebbles with their wanton streams,

And having ranged and search'd a thousand nooks,

Meet both at length in silver-breasted Thames, Where in a greater current they conjoin: So I my Best-Belovèd's am; so He is mine.

E'en so we met; and after long pursuit,

E'en so we join'd: we both became entire;

No need for either to renew a suit,

For I was flax and he was flames of fire: Our firm-united souls did more than twine; So I my Best-Belovèd's am; so He is mine.

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If all those glittering Monarchs that command
The servile quarters of this earthly ball,
Should tender, in exchange, their shares of land,
I would not change my fortunes for them all:
Their wealth is but a counter to my
coin:
The world's but theirs; but my Belovèd 's

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mine.

1635?

Francis Quarles.

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