Friday, April 6, 2018

Jordan Poem By George Herbert


      - By George Herbert

Who says that fictions onely and false hair 
Become a verse? Is there in truth no beauty? 
Is all good structure in a winding stair? 
May no lines pass, except they do their duty 
Not to a true, but painted chair? 

Is it no verse, except enchanted groves 
And sudden arbours shadow coarse-spun lines? 
Must purling streams refresh a lover's loves? 
Must all be veil'd, while he that reads, divines, 
Catching the sense at two removes? 

Shepherds are honest people; let them sing; 
Riddle who list, for me, and pull for prime; 
I envy no man's nightingale or spring; 
Nor let them punish me with loss of rhyme, 
Who plainly say, my God, my King. 

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