Easter-wings by George Herbert (1593-1633)
Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,
Though foolishly he lost the same,
Decaying more and more,
Till he became
Most poore:
With thee
O let me rise
As larks, harmoniously,
And sing this day thy victories:
Then shall the fall further the flight in me.
My tender age in sorrow did beginne:
And still with sicknesses and shame
Thou didst so punish sinne,
That I became
Most thinne.
With thee
Let me combine
And feel this day thy victorie:
For, if I imp my wing on thine,
Affliction shall advance the flight in me.
* To imp - to graft on new feathers to the wing of a falcon
6 comments:
That Is a beautiful poem Eleanor thank! I'm so happy you enjoyed my Easter post! God bless you!
Carol
Oh to fly to Him. Thanks for sharing.
"...till he became poore with thee..." made me tearful - thank you for the reminder in this beautiful poem!
Thank you for sharing a most interesting poem Eleanor. The footnote was fascinating also- grafting feathers onto a falcon? (I also now have a new three letter word for Scrabble!!)All that aside, the poem is beautiful.
In spite of my lack of religion, George Herbert is one of my favorite poets. Thanks for posting this.
And oh! those roses from your garden!
Your previous post with your traditional Easter celebration dinner is very interesting - beautifully set dinner table too! Thanks for sharing this wonderful poem.
The very pretty bouquet is a lovely gesture from your bookclub ladies!
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