So hills and valleys into singing break;
And though poor stones have neither speech nor tongue,
While active winds and streams both run and speak,
Yet stones are deep in admiration.
       Thus praise and prayer here beneath the sun
       Make lesser mornings, when the great are done.



Weighing the steadfastness and state
   Of some mean things which here below reside,
Where birds like watchful clocks the noiseless date
   And intercourse of times divide,
Where bees at night get home and hive, and flowers
       Early as well as late,
Rise with the sun and set in the same bowers;

I would, said I, my God would give
   The staidness of these things to man! for these
To His divine appointments ever cleave,
   And no new business breaks their peace;
The birds nor sow nor reap, yet sup and dine,
       The flowers without clothes live,
Yet Solomon was never drest so fine.

Man hath still either toys or care;
   He hath no root, nor to one place is tied,
But ever restless and irregular
   About the earth doth run and ride,
He knows he hath a home, but scarce knows where;
       He says it is so far
That he hath quite forgot how to get there.

He knocks at all doors, strays and roams;
   Nay hath not so much wit as some stones have
Which in the darkest nights point to their homes,
   By some hid sense their Maker gave;
Man is the shuttle to whose winding quest
       And passage through these looms
God ordered motion, but ordained no rest.



I saw Eternity the other night
Like a great Ring of pure and endless light,
         All calm, as it was bright,
And round beneath it, Time in hours, days, years
            Driv’n by the spheres
Like a vast shadow mov’d, In which the world
         And all her train were hurl’d;
The doting Lover in his quaintest strain
            Did there Complain,

. . . . . .

Yet some, who all this while did weep and sing,
And sing, and weep, soar’d up into the Ring,
     But most would use no wing.

O fools (said I,) thus to prefer dark night
            Before true light,
To live in grots, and caves, and hate the day
      Because it shews the way,
The way which from this dead and dark abode
            Leads up to God,
A way where you might tread the Sun, and be
            More bright than he.
But as I did their madness so discuss
            One whisper’d thus,
This Ring the Bride-groome did for none provide
            But for his bride.

  By PanEris using Melati.

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