Silex scintillans, or, Sacred poems and priuate eiaculations by Henry Vaughan ...

¶

SIlence, and stealth of dayes! 'tis now Since thou art gone, Twelve hundred houres, and not a brow But Clouds hang on. As he that in some Caves thick damp Lockt from the light, Fixeth a solitary lamp, To brave the night, And walking from his Sun, when past That glim'ring Ray Cuts through the heavy mists in haste Back to his day, So o'r fled minutes I retreat Unto that hour Which shew'd thee last, but did defeat Thy light, and pow'r, I search, and rack my soul to see Those beams again, But nothing but the snuff to me Appeareth plain; That dark, and dead sleeps in its known, And common urn, But those fled to their Makers throne, There shine, and burn;

O could I track them! but souls must Track one the other, And now the spirit, not the dust Must be thy brother. Yet I have one Pearle by whose light All things I see, And in the heart of Earth, and night Find Heaven, and thee.