In Easter celebration, another poem from my ancient relative who shares my surname (and family shield):
Thou, whose sad heart, and weeping head lies low, Whose cloudy breast cold damps invade, Who never feel'st the sun, nor smooth'st thy brow, But sitt'st oppressed in the shade, Awake! awake! And in His resurrection partake. Who on this day — that thou might'st rise as He — Rose up, and cancell'd two deaths due to thee. Awake! awake! and, like the sun, disperse All mists that would usurp this day; Where are thy palms, thy branches, and thy verse? Hosanna! hark; why dost thou stay? Arise! arise! And with His healing blood anoint thine eyes, Thy inward eyes; His blood will cure thy mind, Whose spittle only could restore the blind.
Henry Vaughan (1621?-1695)
|Grave of Henry Vaughan, Llansantffraed, Wales|
ADDENDUMMay 2, 2012Found an article from 1982 on the Poetry of Henry Vaughan as a precursor to the Restoration (of the Gospel, not the monarchy) in BYU Studies here.
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