Herbert
2014/07/13 17:29
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If as the winds and waters here below
Do fly and flow,
My sighs and tears as busy were above;
Sure they would move
And much affect thee, as tempestuous times
Amaze poor mortals and object their crimes.
Stars have their storms, ev’n in a high degree,
As well as we.
A throbbing conscience spurred by remorse
Hath a strange force:
It quits the earth and mounting more and more
Dares to assault thee and besiege thy door.
There it stands knocking to thy music's wrong,
And drowns the song.
Glory and honour are set by, till it
An answer get.
Poets have wrong’d poor storms: such days are best;
They purge the air without, within the breast.
Do fly and flow,
My sighs and tears as busy were above;
Sure they would move
And much affect thee, as tempestuous times
Amaze poor mortals and object their crimes.
Stars have their storms, ev’n in a high degree,
As well as we.
A throbbing conscience spurred by remorse
Hath a strange force:
It quits the earth and mounting more and more
Dares to assault thee and besiege thy door.
There it stands knocking to thy music's wrong,
And drowns the song.
Glory and honour are set by, till it
An answer get.
Poets have wrong’d poor storms: such days are best;
They purge the air without, within the breast.
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