Wonder

    How like an angel came I down!

    How bright are all things here!

When first among his works I did appear,

    Oh, how their glory did me crown!

The world resembled his eternity,

    In which my sould did walk;

    And ev'rything that I did see

    Did with me talk.

    The skies in their magnificence,

    The lovely lively air,

Oh, how divine, how soft, how sweet, how fair!

    The stars did entertain my sense,

And all the works of God so bright and pure,

    So rich and great, did seem,

    As if they ever must endure

    In my esteem.

    A native health and innocence

    Within my bones did grow,

And while my God did all his glories show,

    I felt a vigor in my sense

That was all spirit; I within did flow

    With seas of life like wine;

    I nothing in the world did know,

    But 'twas divine.

    Harsh rugged objects were concealed;

    Oppressions, tears, and cries,

Sins, griefs, complaints, dissensions, weeping eyes,

    Were hid, and only things revealed

Which heavenly spirits and the angels prize:

    The state of innocence

    And bliss, not trades and poverties,

    Did fill my sense.

    The streets seemed paved with golden stones,

    The boys and girls all mine --

To me how did their lovely faces shine!

    The sons of men all holy ones,

In joy and beauty then appeared to me;

    And ev'rything I found,

    While like an angel I did see,

    Adorned the ground.

    Rich diamonds, and pearl, and gold

    Might ev'rywhere be seen;

Rare colors, yellow, blue, red, white, and green,

    Mine eyes on ev'ry side behold;

All that I saw a wonder did appear,

    Amazement was my bliss,

    That and my wealth met ev'rywhere;

    No joy to this!

    Cursed, ill-devised proprieties,

    With envy, avarice,

And fraud, those fiends that spoil ev'n paradise,

    Were not the object of mine eyes;

Nor hedges, ditches, limits, narrow bounds,

    I dreamt not aught of those,

    But in surveying all men's grounds

    I found repose.

    For property itself was mine,

    And hedges, ornaments,

Walls, houses, coffers, and their rich contents,

    To make me rich combine.

Clothes, costly jewels, laces, I esteemed

    My wealth, by others worn,

    For me they all to wear them seemed,

    When I was born.

Thomas Traherne

The Apostasy

         One star

     Is better far

    Than many precious stones;

One sun, which is by its own luster seen,

    Is worth ten thousand golden thrones;

    A juicy herb, or spire of grass,

    In useful virtue, native green,

    An em'rald doth surpass,

    Hath in 't more value, though less seen.

         No wars,

     Nor mortal jars,

    Nor bloody feuds, nor coin,

Nor griefs which those occasions, saw I then;

    Nor wicked thieves which this purloin;

    I had not thoughts that were impure;

    Esteeming both women and men

    God's work, I was secure,

    And reckoned peace my choicest gem.

         As Eve,

     I did believe

    Myself in Eden set,

Affecting neither gold nor ermined crowns,

    Nor aught else that I need foget;

    No mud did foul my limpid streams,

    Nor mist eclipsed my sun with frowns;

    Set off with heav'nly beams,

    My joys were meadows, fields, and towns.

         Those things

     Which cherubins

    Did not at first behold

Among God's works, which Adam did not see --

    As robes, and stones enchased in gold,

    Rich cabinets, and such-like fine

    Inventions -- could not ravish me;

    I thought not bowls of wine

    Needful for my felicity.

         All bliss

     Consists in this,

    To do as Adam did,

And not to know those superficial joys

    Which were from him in Eden hid,

    Those little new-invented things,

    Fine lace and silks, such childish toys

    As ribands are and rings,

    Or worldly pelf that us destroys.

         For God,

     Both great and good,

    The seeds of melancholy

Created not, but only foolish men,

    Grown mad with customary folly

    Which doth increase their wants, so dote

    As when they elder grow they then

    Such baubles chiefly note;

    More fools at twenty years than ten.

         But I,

     I know not why,

    Did learn among them too,

At length; and when I once with blemished eyes

    Began their pence and toys to view,

    Drowned in their customs, I became

    A stranger to the shining skies,

    Lost as a dying flame,

    And hobby-horses brought to prize.

         The sun

     And moon forgone

    As if unmade, appear

No more to me; to God and heaven dead

    I was, as though they never were;

    Upon some useless gaudy book,

    When what I knew of God was fled,

    The child being taught to look,

    His soul was quickly murtherëd.

         O fine!

     O most divine!

    O brave! they cried; and showed

Some tinsel thing whose glittering did amaze,

    And to their cries its beauty owed;

    Thus I on riches, by degrees,

    Of a new stamp did learn to gaze,

    While all the world for these

    I lost, my joy turned to a blaze.

Thomas Traherne

Poverty

As in the house I sate,

Alone and desolate,

    No creature but the fire and I,

The chimney and the stool, I lift mine eye

         Up to the wall,

     And in the silent hall,

         Saw nothing mine

    But some few cups and dishes shine,

    The table and the wooden stools

    Where people used to dine;

    A painted cloth there was,

    Wherein some ancient story wrought

    A little entertained my thought,

    Which light discovered through the glass.

I wondered much to see

That all my wealth should be

    Confined in such a little room,

Yet hope for more I scarcely durst presume.

         It grieved me sore

     That such a scanty store

         Should be my all;

    For I forgot my ease and health,

    Nor did I think of hands or eyes,

    Nor soul nor body prize;

    I neither thought the sun,

    Nor moon, nor stars, nor people mine,

    Though they did round about me shine;

    And therefore was I quite undone.

Some greater things, I thought,

Must needs for me be wrought,

    Which till my craving mind could see

I ever should lament my poverty;

         I fain would have

     Whatever bounty gave,

         Nor could there be

    Without or love or deity;

    For should not he be infinite

    Whose hand created me?

    Ten thousand absent things

    Did vex my poor and wanting mind,

    Which, till I be no longer blind,

    Let me not see the King of kings.

His love must surely be

Rich, infinite, and free;

    Nor can he be thought a God

Of grace and power, that fills not his abode,

         His holy court,

     In kind and liberal sort;

         Joys and pleasures,

    Plenty of jewels, goods, and treasures,

    To enrich the poor, cheer the forlorn,

    His palace must adorn,

    And given all to me;

    For till his works my wealth became,

    No love or peace did me inflame:

    But now I have a Deity.

Thomas Traherne