A Divine Rapture

Francis Quarles.
1592–1644

E’EN like two little bank-dividing brooks,

  That wash the pebbles with their wanton streams,

And having ranged and search’d a thousand nooks,

  Meet both at length in silver-breasted Thames,

    Where in a greater current they conjoin:

So I my Best-belovèd’s am; so He is mine.

 

E’en so we met; and after long pursuit,

  E’en so we joined; we both became entire;

No need for either to renew a suit,

  For I was flax, and He was flames of fire:

    Our firm-united souls did more than twine;

So I my Best-belovèd’s am; so He is mine.

 

If all those glittering Monarchs, that command

  The servile quarters of this earthly ball,

Should tender in exchange their shares of land,

  I would not change my fortunes for them all:

     Their wealth is but a counter to my coin:

The world ’s but theirs; but my Belovèd’s mine.

literature, poetry

Comments on this entry are closed.

%d bloggers like this: