Classic and Contemporary Poetry
WISHES, by JOSEPH BEAUMONT First Line: Now I have mind & leisure Last Line: Thy will being grown almightie. Subject(s): Materialism; Temptation; Wishes; Worship | ||||||||
NOW I have Mind & leisure To trip a chearly Measure; DESIRE, come freely hither, And tell Me plainly, whither Thy Wishes come not thronging, And make Thee big wth longing. Dos't hanker after Pleasures, The Bellys lazie Treasures, Which there will rot before Thee, And with Corruption store Thee, Providing quicker breeding For Wormes & fatter feeding? Such belly Amunition Maintaines but ye Physitian, And howsoe'r it pleases, Cheats Thee into diseases. Doe Gold & Silver woo Thee? Abundance will undoe Thee. The Metall's sad; be warie, How much thou striv'st to carry: ENOUGH is vaster Treasure, Then Wealth, yt knows no measure, Which Dropsie-like, may kill thee, And split, but never fill thee. To Honours gaudy splendor Couldst thou thy selfe surrender, And court ye glittering graces Of high commanding Places? Where flattering Eyes devotions Will wait on all thy motions, And foulest vices garnish With Virtue's forced Varnish; Where Envie's disaffections Will blast thy fairest actions, And in ten thousand Places Will undermine thy paces, Painting in thy confusion A falling stars conclusion. Doe Wedlock's Looks invite Thee In chast Sweets to delight Thee? But what if thou dost marry Millions of Cares, & carry Thy single Freedomes Treasure Into a Chaine for Pleasure, Of which sole Death can ease Thee; A Friend, which scarce will please Thee? What, does thy Study lure thee Within it to immure thee? And stow up thy Provision Of learned Ammunition? Alas vaine Project, Plunder Has broke that Plot in sunder: Cambridge, thy genuine Mother, Is force'd to be no other But step-dame, & reject thee, Though once she did elect Thee. Tis well, God doth not fashion By Man's, his Reprobation. Tis well, thy new & Noble Society doth double Thy Comfort: gallant Spirits (Men of abused Merits) With Thee are Reprobated: Seing then Thou art estated In this brave Losse, no matter, This FELLOWSHIP'S ye better. Wouldst, if thou couldst come by it, Thy Living hold in quiet, And by its Profits, treasure Up fuell for thy Pleasure? Fondling, how thou mistakest Thy happiness, & makest Thy gaine thy Losse! Th' ast gained Not to be spent & pained With Mystik Cares: Most mighty Hero's who knew ye weighty Burden of Soules, have faster Fled from ye Name of Pastor Then unfledge Brats now hasten Upon this charge to fasten: Well now I see that Wishing, Is but halfe way to Missing; E'n wish no more: I'l tell thee A certaine course to fill thee With all, thy Heart can covet; Choose but Gods Will & love it, So shall thou be assured Thy Wish will be procured; For no Crosse then can spight Thee Thy Will being grown Almightie. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COMPANIONSHIP by MALTBIE DAVENPORT BABCOCK FOR I WILL CONSIDER YOUR DOG MOLLY by DAVID LEHMAN RUSSIAN CATHEDRAL by CLAUDE MCKAY LITTLE WHITE CHURCH by MARILYN NELSON A STEEPLE ON THE HOUSE by ROBERT FROST MATE (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ANSWER TO PRAYER by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE TEN COMMANDMENTS by GEORGE SANTAYANA Γενεθλιακον by JOSEPH BEAUMONT Γενεθλιακον by JOSEPH BEAUMONT A CONCLUSORIE HUMNE TO THE SAME WEEK; & FOR MY FRIEND by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |
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