Fly hence Pale Care, noe more remember Past Sorrowes with the fled December But let each prsant Cheeke appe Smooth as the Childhood of the yeare And sing a Caroll here. T'was braue, t'was braue could we comand ye hand Of Youthe As yow haue done yor day, Then should we not decay, But all we wither and our Light Is spilt in eulasting night. When as your Sight Shewes like the Heavens aboue ye Moone, Like an Eternall Noone That sees noe setting Sunn. Keepe vp those flames, & though you shroud A while yor forehead in a Cloude Doe it like the Sun to write I'th ayre, a greater Text of light. Welcome to all or vowes And since you pay To vs the day Soe longe desir'd See we haue fyr'd Our holy Spicknard, & ther's none But brings his stick of Cynamon, His eager Eye, or Smoother Smyle, And lays it gently on ye Pyle, Which thus enkindled we invoke Yor name amidst the sacred smoke. Chorus. Come then greate Lord And see or Alter burne With loue of yor Returne And not a man here but consumes His soule to glad you in perfumes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IVAN THE CZAR by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS ON THE SALE BY AUCTION OF KEATS' LOVE LETTERS by OSCAR WILDE LINES TO A TEAPOT by JOANNA BAILLIE LINES WRITTEN IN SWITZERLAND by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES A STREET MOTHER by WILLIAM ROSE BENET NOVEMBER by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES LINES TO JULIA M --; SENT WITH A COPY OF THE AUTHOR'S POEMS by THOMAS CAMPBELL |