Henry Vaughan

(1621 - 23 April 1695 / Brecknockshire, Wales)

Henry Vaughan Poems

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

Peace

1 My Soul, there is a country
2 Afar beyond the stars,
3 Where stands a winged sentry
4 All skillful in the wars;
5 There, above noise and danger
6 Sweet Peace sits, crown'd with smiles,
7 And One born in a manger
8 Commands the beauteous files.
9 He is thy gracious friend
10 And (O my Soul awake!)
11 Did in pure love descend,
12 To die here for thy sake.
13 If thou canst get but thither,
14 There grows the flow'r of peace,
15 The rose that cannot wither,
16 Thy ...

Read the full of Peace

Etesia Absent

Love, the world's life! What a sad death
Thy absence is to lose our breath
At once and die, is but to live
Enlarged, without the scant reprieve
Of pulse and air: whose dull returns
And narrow circles the soul mourns.
But to be dead alive, and still
To wish, but never have our will:
To be possessed, and yet to miss;

[Hata Bildir]