Henry Vaughan

(1621 - 23 April 1695 / Brecknockshire, Wales)

Henry Vaughan Poems

1. The Daughter Of Herodias 4/30/2012
2. The Storm 4/30/2012
3. Thou That Know'st For Whom I Mourn 4/16/2010
4. The Shower (I) 4/16/2010
5. Vanity Of Spirit 4/16/2010
6. The Call 4/16/2010
7. The Dwelling-Place 4/16/2010
8. The Dedication 4/16/2010
9. Vain Wits And Eyes 4/16/2010
10. Rules And Lessons 4/16/2010
11. The Incarnation, And Passion 4/16/2010
12. The Dawning 4/16/2010
13. The Night 4/16/2010
14. The Bird 4/16/2010
15. The Pursuit 4/16/2010
16. The Book 4/16/2010
17. Come, Come ! What Do I Here? 4/30/2012
18. Sweet Empty Sky Of June Without A Stain, 4/16/2010
19. Content 4/30/2012
20. The Evening-Watch: A Dialogue 12/31/2002
21. As Time One Day By Me Did Pass 4/30/2012
22. The Relapse 1/3/2003
23. The Shepherds 1/3/2003
24. Upon The Priory Grove, His Usual Retirement 1/3/2003
25. Midnight 4/30/2012
26. The Nativity 1/3/2003
27. Mount Of Olives (I) 4/16/2010
28. Anguish 4/16/2010
29. The Revival 12/31/2002
30. Death. A Dialogue 4/16/2010
31. The Timber 1/3/2003
32. The Morning-Watch 12/31/2002
33. And Do They So? 4/16/2010
34. Unprofitableness 1/3/2003
35. Joy Of My Life While Left Me Here! 4/16/2010
36. Boethius, De Consolatione Philosophiae : Liber 2. Metrum 5 4/16/2010
37. A Song To Amoret 4/16/2010
38. Cock-Crowing 4/16/2010
39. Son-Days 1/3/2003
40. Beyond The Veil 4/16/2010
Best Poem of Henry Vaughan

Friends Departed

They are all gone into the world of light!
And I alone sit ling'ring here;
Their very memory is fair and bright,
And my sad thoughts doth clear.

It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast,
Like stars upon some gloomy grove,
Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest
After the sun's remove.

I see them walking in an air of glory,
Whose light doth trample on my days:
My days, which are at best but dull and hoary,
Mere glimmering and decays.

O holy Hope! and high Humility,
High as the heavens above!
These are your walks, and ...

Read the full of Friends Departed

Regeneration

1.

Award, and still in bonds, one day
I stole abroad,
It was high-spring, and all the way
Primros'd, and hung with shade;
Yet, was it frost within,
And surly winds
Blasted my infant buds, and sin

[Hata Bildir]