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Tixall Poetry.
Tis his powerfull praires give you
All good here, and heaven too.
Yet hence your comfort most will rise,
God loves the child that quickly dies.
All good here, and heaven too.
Yet hence your comfort most will rise,
God loves the child that quickly dies.
To
Cannall, in Mourning.
What all in black! all mourning! O that wee
Mistooke the place, or saw not what we see.
In favor of our eyes we must be gon,
For if we stay, we shall pertake a moane
Not common, since all obiects speake this crosse
As no particular but a general losse.
Come gratitude, and let selfe-love depart;
Weele stay and hear it, though it breake our hart.
Is this the house to which none ever came
Unwilling or unwelcome? Happy fame,
But not eternall! for alas, no more
It can be now as it has beene before.
Mistooke the place, or saw not what we see.
In favor of our eyes we must be gon,
For if we stay, we shall pertake a moane
Not common, since all obiects speake this crosse
As no particular but a general losse.
Come gratitude, and let selfe-love depart;
Weele stay and hear it, though it breake our hart.
Is this the house to which none ever came
Unwilling or unwelcome? Happy fame,
But not eternall! for alas, no more
It can be now as it has beene before.
