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Poem	Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell? I humbly crave, Let me once know. I sought thee in a secret cave, And ask'd, if Peace were there, A hollow wind did seem to answer, No: Go seek elsewhere. I did; and going did a rainbow note: Surely, thought I, This is the lace of Peace's coat: I will search out the matter. But while I looked the clouds immediately Did break and scatter. Then went I to a garden and did spy A gallant flower, The crown-imperial: Sure, said I, Peace at the root must dwell. But when I digged, I saw a worm devour What showed so well. At length I met a rev'rend good old man; Whom when for Peace I did demand, he thus began: There was a Prince of old At Salem dwelt, who lived with good increase Of flock and fold. He sweetly lived; yet sweetness did not save His life from foes. But after death out of his grave There sprang twelve stalks of wheat; Which many wond'ring at, got some of those To plant and set. It prospered strangely, and did soon disperse Through all the earth: For they that taste it do rehearse That virtue lies therein; A secret virtue, bringing peace and mirth By flight of sin. Take of this grain, which in my garden grows, And grows for you; Make bread of it: and that repose And peace, which ev'ry where With so much earnestness you do pursue, Is only there.
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