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Aug. 22, 2008
A Poem by George Herbert
THE DAWNING
 WAKE, sad heart, whom sorrow ever drowns ;
Take up thine eyes, which feed on earth ;
Unfold thy forehead, gathered into frowns ;
Thy Saviour comes, and with Him mirth :
Awake, awake,
And with a thankful heart His comforts take.
But thou dost still lament, and pine, and cry,
And feel His death, but not His victory.
Arise, sad heart ; if thou dost not withstand,
Christ's resurrection thine may be ;
Do not by hanging down break from the hand
Which, as it riseth, raiseth thee :
Arise, Arise;
And with His burial linen drie thine eyes.
Christ left His grave-clothes, that we might, when grief
Draws tears or blood, not want a handkerchief.
I am sorry I have not written anything myself; I've been immersing myself in some poetry reading this summer, and I've finished Milton's Paradise Lost and am on to Herbert's The Temple. I hope you enjoyed this poem. The last two lines were so vivid to me! |
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Aug. 22, 2008 - Untitled Comment
BTW I have not forgotten you! I know exactly what I want to share but keep coming across others who seem to say it much better than I do. I may add a few links or book titles to my feeble attempts in order to direct you to wiser women than I.