Poems by George Herbert

All Poems Original Poems Translations

« ‹ 1 2 3 4 5 › »

Deniall

When my devotions could not pierce

Thy silent ears;

Then was my heart broken, as was my verse:

My breast was full of fears

And disorder:

My bent thoughts, like a brittle bow,

Did flie asunder:

Each took his way; some would to pleasures go,

by George Herbert

Redemption

Having been tenant long to a rich lord,

Not thriving, I resolved to be bold,

And make a suit unto him, to afford

A new small-rented lease, and cancell th' old.

In heaven at his manour I him sought:

They told me there, that he was lately gone

About some land, which he had dearly bought

by George Herbert

Affliction (III)

My heart did heave, and there came forth,

O God!

By that I knew that thou wast in the grief,

To guide and govern it to my relief,

Making a scepter of the rod:

Hadst thou not had Thy part,

Sure the unruly sigh had broke my heart.

by George Herbert

The Flower

How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean

Are thy returns! ev'n as the flowers in spring;

To which, besides their own demean,

The late-past frosts tributes of pleasures bring.

Grief melts away

Like snow in May,

As if there were no such cold thing.

Who would have thought my shrivel'd heart

by George Herbert

Affliction (I)

When first thou didst entice to thee my heart,

I thought the service brave;

So many joyes I writ down for my part,

Besides what I might have

Out of my stock of naturall delights,

Augmented with thy gracious benefits.

I looked on thy furniture so fine,

And made it fine to me;

by George Herbert

Charms And Knots

Who reade a chapter when they rise,

Shall ne're be troubled with ill eyes.

A poore man's rod, when thou dost ride,

Is both a weapon and a guide.

Who shuts his hand, hath lost his gold:

Who opens it, hath it twice told.

Who goes to bed, and doth not pray,

Maketh two nights to ev'ry day.

by George Herbert

Artillerie

As I one ev'ning sat before my cell,

Me thought a starre did shoot into my lap.

I rose, and shook my clothes, as knowing well,

That from small fires comes oft no small mishap.

When suddenly I heard one say,

Do as thou usest, disobey,

Expell good motions from thy breast,

Which have the face of fire, but end in rest.

by George Herbert

A Dialogue-Anthem

Alas, poor Death! Where is thy glory?

Where is thy famous force, thy ancient sting?

Alas, poor mortal, void of story!

Go spell and read how I have killed thy King.

Poor Death! And who was hurt thereby?

Thy curse being laid on Him makes thee accurst.

Let losers talk, yet thou shalt die;

These arms shall crush thee.

by George Herbert

Clasping Of Hands

Lord, Thou art mine, and I am Thine,

If mine I am: and Thine much more

Then I or ought, or can be mine.

Yet to be Thine, doth me restore;

So that again I now am mine,

And with advantage mine the more.

Since this being mine, brings with it Thine,

And Thou with me dost Thee restore.

by George Herbert

Easter

Rise heart; thy lord is risen. Sing his praise

Without delayes,

Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise

With him mayst rise:

That, as his death calcinèd thee to dust,

His life may make thee gold, and much more just.

Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part

With all thy art,

by George Herbert

Aaron

Holinesse on the head,

Light and perfections on the breast,

Harmonious bells below, raising the dead

To lead them unto life and rest:

Thus are true Aarons drest.

Profanenesse in my head,

Defects and darknesse in my breast,

A noise of passions ringing me for dead

by George Herbert

Church-Monuments

While that my soul repairs to her devotion,

Here I entombe my flesh, that it betimes

May take acquaintance of this heap of dust;

To which the blast of death's incessant motion,

Fed with the exhalation of our crimes,

Drives all at last. Therefore I gladly trust

My bodie to this school, that it may learn

To spell his elements, and finde his birth

by George Herbert