Best Famous Henry Vaughan Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Henry Vaughan poems. This is a select list of the best famous Henry Vaughan poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Henry Vaughan poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Henry Vaughan poems.

Search for the best famous Henry Vaughan poems, articles about Henry Vaughan poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Henry Vaughan poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

Poems are below...


12
Written by Henry Vaughan | Create an image from this poem

The Retreat

 1 Happy those early days, when I
2 Shin'd in my angel-infancy!
3 Before I understood this place
4 Appointed for my second race,
5 Or taught my soul to fancy ought
6 But a white, celestial thought;
7 When yet I had not walk'd above
8 A mile or two from my first love,
9 And looking back (at that short space)
10 Could see a glimpse of his bright face;
11 When on some gilded cloud or flow'r
12 My gazing soul would dwell an hour,
13 And in those weaker glories spy
14 Some shadows of eternity;
15 Before I taught my tongue to wound
16 My conscience with a sinful sound,
17 Or had the black art to dispense,
18 A sev'ral sin to ev'ry sense,
19 But felt through all this fleshly dress
20 Bright shoots of everlastingness.
21 O how I long to travel back, 22 And tread again that ancient track! 23 That I might once more reach that plain, 24 Where first I left my glorious train, 25 From whence th' enlighten'd spirit sees 26 That shady city of palm trees.
27 But ah! my soul with too much stay 28 Is drunk, and staggers in the way.
29 Some men a forward motion love, 30 But I by backward steps would move; 31 And when this dust falls to the urn, 32 In that state I came, return.
Written by Henry Vaughan | Create an image from this poem

The True Christians

 So stick up ivy and the bays,
And then restore the heathen ways.
Green will remind you of the spring, Though this great day denies the thing.
And mortifies the earth and all But your wild revels, and loose hall.
Could you wear flowers, and roses strow Blushing upon your breasts' warm snow, That very dress your lightness will Rebuke, and wither at the ill.
The brightness of this day we owe Not unto music, masque, nor show: Nor gallant furniture, nor plate; But to the manger's mean estate.
His life while here, as well as birth, Was but a check to pomp and mirth; And all man's greatness you may see Condemned by His humility.
Then leave your open house and noise, To welcome Him with holy joys, And the poor shepherd's watchfulness: Whom light and hymns from heaven did bless.
What you abound with, cast abroad To those that want, and ease your load.
Who empties thus, will bring more in; But riot is both loss and sin.
Dress finely what comes not in sight, And then you keep your Christmas right.
Written by Henry Vaughan | Create an image from this poem

Friends Departed

 They are all gone into the world of light! 
And I alone sit ling'ring here; 
Their very memory is fair and bright, 
And my sad thoughts doth clear.
It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast, Like stars upon some gloomy grove, Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest After the sun's remove.
I see them walking in an air of glory, Whose light doth trample on my days: My days, which are at best but dull and hoary, Mere glimmering and decays.
O holy Hope! and high Humility, High as the heavens above! These are your walks, and you have show'd them me, To kindle my cold love.
Dear, beauteous Death! the jewel of the Just, Shining nowhere, but in the dark; What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, Could man outlook that mark! He that hath found some fledg'd bird's nest may know, At first sight, if the bird be flown; But what fair well or grove he sings in now, That is to him unknown.
And yet as Angels in some brighter dreams Call to the soul, when man doth sleep: So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes, And into glory peep.
If a star were confin'd into a tomb, Her captive flames must needs burn there; But when the hand that lock'd her up gives room, She'll shine through all the sphere.
O Father of eternal life, and all Created glories under Thee! Resume Thy spirit from this world of thrall Into true liberty.
Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill My perspective still as they pass: Or else remove me hence unto that hill, Where I shall need no glass.
Written by Henry Vaughan | Create an image from this poem

The Evening-Watch: A Dialogue

 BODY

1 Farewell! I go to sleep; but when
2 The day-star springs, I'll wake again.
SOUL 3 Go, sleep in peace; and when thou liest 4 Unnumber'd in thy dust, when all this frame 5 Is but one dram, and what thou now descriest 6 In sev'ral parts shall want a name, 7 Then may his peace be with thee, and each dust 8 Writ in his book, who ne'er betray'd man's trust! BODY 9 Amen! but hark, ere we two stray 10 How many hours dost think 'till day? SOUL 11 Ah go; th'art weak, and sleepy.
Heav'n 12 Is a plain watch, and without figures winds 13 All ages up; who drew this circle, even 14 He fills it; days and hours are blinds.
15 Yet this take with thee.
The last gasp of time 16 Is thy first breath, and man's eternal prime.
Written by Henry Vaughan | Create an image from this poem

The Revival

 1 Unfold! unfold! Take in His light,
2 Who makes thy cares more short than night.
3 The joys which with His day-star rise, 4 He deals to all but drowsy eyes; 5 And (what the men of this world miss) 6 Some drops and dews of future bliss.
7 Hark! how his winds have chang'd their note, 8 And with warm whispers call thee out.
9 The frosts are past, the storms are gone, 10 And backward life at last comes on.
11 The lofty groves in express joys 12 Reply unto the turtle's voice; 13 And here in dust and dirt, O here 14 The lilies of His love appear!
Written by Henry Vaughan | Create an image from this poem

They are all Gone into the World of Light

 1 They are all gone into the world of light!
2 And I alone sit ling'ring here;
3 Their very memory is fair and bright,
4 And my sad thoughts doth clear.
5 It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast, 6 Like stars upon some gloomy grove, 7 Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest, 8 After the sun's remove.
9 I see them walking in an air of glory, 10 Whose light doth trample on my days: 11 My days, which are at best but dull and hoary, 12 Mere glimmering and decays.
13 O holy Hope! and high Humility, 14 High as the heavens above! 15 These are your walks, and you have show'd them me 16 To kindle my cold love.
17 Dear, beauteous Death! the jewel of the just, 18 Shining nowhere, but in the dark; 19 What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust 20 Could man outlook that mark! 21 He that hath found some fledg'd bird's nest, may know 22 At first sight, if the bird be flown; 23 But what fair well or grove he sings in now, 24 That is to him unknown.
25 And yet as angels in some brighter dreams 26 Call to the soul, when man doth sleep: 27 So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes 28 And into glory peep.
29 If a star were confin'd into a tomb, 30 Her captive flames must needs burn there; 31 But when the hand that lock'd her up, gives room, 32 She'll shine through all the sphere.
33 O Father of eternal life, and all 34 Created glories under thee! 35 Resume thy spirit from this world of thrall 36 Into true liberty.
37 Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill 38 My perspective still as they pass, 39 Or else remove me hence unto that hill, 40 Where I shall need no glass.
Written by Henry Vaughan | Create an image from this poem

The Nativity

 Peace? and to all the world? sure, One
And He the Prince of Peace, hath none.
He travels to be born, and then Is born to travel more again.
Poor Galilee! thou canst not be The place for His nativity.
His restless mother's called away, And not delivered till she pay.
A tax? 'tis so still! we can see The church thrive in her misery; And like her Head at Bethlem, rise When she, oppressed with troubles, lies.
Rise? should all fall, we cannot be In more extremities than He.
Great Type of passions! come what will, Thy grief exceeds all copies still.
Thou cam'st from heaven to earth, that we Might go from earth to heaven with Thee.
And though Thou foundest no welcome here, Thou didst provide us mansions there.
A stable was Thy court, and when Men turned to beasts, beasts would be men.
They were Thy courtiers, others none; And their poor manger was Thy throne.
No swaddling silks Thy limbs did fold, Though Thou couldst turn Thy rays to gold.
No rockers waited on Thy birth, No cradles stirred, nor songs of mirth; But her chaste lap and sacred breast Which lodged Thee first did give Thee rest.
But stay: what light is that doth stream, And drop here in a gilded beam? It is Thy star runs page, and brings Thy tributary Eastern kings.
Lord! grant some light to us, that we May with them find the way to Thee.
Behold what mists eclipse the day: How dark it is! shed down one ray To guide us out of this sad night, And say once more, "Let there be light.
"
Written by Henry Vaughan | Create an image from this poem

The Timber

 Sure thou didst flourish once! and many springs, 
Many bright mornings, much dew, many showers, 
Pass'd o'er thy head; many light hearts and wings, 
Which now are dead, lodg'd in thy living bowers.
And still a new succession sings and flies; Fresh groves grow up, and their green branches shoot Towards the old and still enduring skies, While the low violet thrives at their root.
But thou beneath the sad and heavy line Of death, doth waste all senseless, cold, and dark; Where not so much as dreams of light may shine, Nor any thought of greenness, leaf, or bark.
And yet—as if some deep hate and dissent, Bred in thy growth betwixt high winds and thee, Were still alive—thou dost great storms resent Before they come, and know'st how near they be.
Else all at rest thou liest, and the fierce breath Of tempests can no more disturb thy ease; But this thy strange resentment after death Means only those who broke—in life—thy peace.
Written by Henry Vaughan | Create an image from this poem

Christs Nativity

 1 Awake, glad heart! get up and sing!
2 It is the birth-day of thy King.
3 Awake! awake! 4 The Sun doth shake 5 Light from his locks, and all the way 6 Breathing perfumes, doth spice the day.
7 Awake, awake! hark how th' wood rings; 8 Winds whisper, and the busy springs 9 A concert make; 10 Awake! awake! 11 Man is their high-priest, and should rise 12 To offer up the sacrifice.
13 I would I were some bird, or star, 14 Flutt'ring in woods, or lifted far 15 Above this inn 16 And road of sin! 17 Then either star or bird should be 18 Shining or singing still to thee.
19 I would I had in my best part 20 Fit rooms for thee! or that my heart 21 Were so clean as 22 Thy manger was! 23 But I am all filth, and obscene; 24 Yet, if thou wilt, thou canst make clean.
25 Sweet Jesu! will then.
Let no more 26 This leper haunt and soil thy door! 27 Cure him, ease him, 28 O release him! 29 And let once more, by mystic birth, 30 The Lord of life be born in earth.
Written by Henry Vaughan | Create an image from this poem

The Retreat

 this time has finished me.
I feel like the German troops whipped by snow and the communists walking bent with newspapers stuffed into worn boots.
my plight is just as terrible.
maybe more so.
victory was so close victory was there.
as she stood before my mirror younger and more beautiful than any woman I had ever known combing yards and yards of red hair as I watched her.
and when she came to bed she was more beautiful than ever and the love was very very good.
eleven months.
now she's gone gone as they go.
this time has finished me.
it's a long road back and back to where? the guy ahead of me falls.
I step over him.
did she get him too?
12