Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/401

 RICHARD CRASHAW

Life, that dares send

A challenge to his end,

And when it comes, say, * Welcome, friend!*

Sydncian showers

Of sweet discourse, whose powers

Can crown old "Winter's head with flowers.

Soft silken hours,

Open suns, shady bowers,

'Bove all, nothing within that lowers.

Whatever delight

Can make Day's forehead bright,

Or give down to the wings of Night.

I wish her store

Of worth may leave her poor

Of wishes; and I wish no more.

Now, if Time knows

That Her, whose radiant brows

"Weave them a garland of my vows;

Her, whose just bays

My future hopes can raise,

A trophy to her present praise;

Her, that dares be

What these lines wish to see;

I seek no further, it is She.

'Tis She, and here,

Lo! I unclothe and clear

My Wishes* cloudy character.

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