Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/443

 HENRY VAUGHAN

Were all my loud, evil days Calm and unhaunted as is thy dark Tent, Whose peace but by some Angels wing or voice

Is seldom rent;

Then I in Heaven all the long year Would keep, and never wander here.

But living where the Sun

Doth all things wake, and where all mix and tyre Themselves and others, I consent and run

To ev'ry myre,

And by this worlds ill-guiding light, Erre more then I can do by night.

There is in God (some say) A deep, but dazling darkness; as men here Say it is late and dusky, because they

See not all clear; O for that night' where I in him Might live invisible and dim.

��577 Nature, Man, Eternity

��The Bird

HITHER thou com'st: the busy wind all night Blew thro' thy lodging, where thy own warm win Thy pillow was. Many a sullen storm (For which coarse man seems much the fitter born) Rained on thy bed And harmless head:

�� �