Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/316

 Stay for me there: I will not fail To meet thee in that hollow vale. And think not much of my delay: I am already on the way, And follow thee with all the speed Desire can make, or sorrows breed. Each minute is a short degree And every hour a step towards thee 'Tis true—with shame and grief I yield— Thou, like the van, first took'st the field; And gotten hast the victory In thus adventuring to die Before me, whose more years might crave A just precedence in the grave. But hark! my pulse, like a soft drum, Beats my approach, tells thee I come; And slow howe'er my marches be I shall at last sit down by thee. The thought of this bids me go on And wait my dissolution With hope and comfort. Dear—forgive The crime—I am content to live Divided, with but half a heart, Till we shall meet and never part.

GEORGE HERBERT

1593-1632

281. Virtue

Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright! The bridal of the earth and sky— The dew shall weep thy fall to-night; For thou must die.