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Poem by Henry Vaughan

The Call


COME, my heart ! come, my head,
In sighs, and tears !
'Tis now, since you have lain thus dead,
Some twenty years ;
Awake, awake,
Some pity take
Upon yourselves !
Who never wake to groan, nor weep,
Shall be sentenc'd for their sleep.


Do but see your sad estate,
How many sands
Have left us, while we careless sate
With folded hands ;
What stock of nights,
Of days, and years
In silent flights
Stole by our ears ;
How ill have we ourselves bestow'd,
Whose suns are all set in a cloud !


Yet come, and let's peruse them all,
And as we pass,
What sins on every minute fall
Score on the glass ;
Then weigh, and rate
Their heavy state,
The glass with tears you fill ;
That done, we shall be safe and good :
Those beasts were clean that chew'd the cud. 

Henry Vaughan

Henry Vaughan's other poems:
  1. The Relapse
  2. The True Christians
  3. Joy of My Life While Left Me Here!
  4. Upon The Priory Grove, His Usual Retirement
  5. Silence and Stealth of Days!

Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Rupert Brooke The Call ("Out of the nothingness of sleep")
  • George Herbert The Call ("Come, my Way, my Truth, my Life")
  • George Meredith The Call ("And if not with a paler cheek")
  • Edgar Guest The Call ("Joy stands on the hilltops")

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