The
Retreat
by Henry Vaughan |
| Happy those early days, when I |
| Shined in my angel-infancy ! |
| Before I understood this place |
| Appointed for my second race, |
| Or taught my soul to fancy aught |
| But a white celestial thought ; |
| When yet I had not walked above |
| A mile or two from my first love. |
| And looking back, at that short space, |
| Could see a glimpse of his bright face ; |
| When on some gilded cloud, or flower, |
| My gazing soul would dwell an hour, |
| And in those weaker glories spy |
| Some shadows of eternity ; |
| Before I taught my tongue to wound |
| My conscience with a sinful sound, |
| Or had the black art to dispense |
| A several sin to every sense, |
| But felt through all this fleshly dress |
Bright shoots of everlastingness.
|
| O how I long to travel back, |
| And tread again that ancient track ! |
| That I might once more reach that plain |
| Where first I left my glorious train ; |
| From whence the enlightened spirit sees |
| That shady City of Palm-trees. |
| But ah ! my soul with too much stay |
| Is drunk, and staggers in the way. |
| Some men a forward motion love, |
| But I by backward steps would move, |
| And when this dust falls to the urn |
In that state I came, return.
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| Henry
Vaughan | Classic Poems |
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