A THANKSGIVING TO GOD,

FOR HIS HOUSE.

LORD! Thou hast given me a cell
Wherein to dwell;

A little house, whose humble roof
Is weather-proof;
Under the spars of which, I lie
Both soft and dry.

Where Thou, my chamber for to ward,
Hast set a guard

Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep
Me, while I sleep.

Low is my Porch, as is my fate,
Both void of State:

And yet the threshold of my door
Is worn by th' poor;
Who thither come, and freely get
Good words, or meat.
Like as my Parlour, so my Hall,
And Kitchen, 's small!

A little Buttery; and therein

A little Bin,

Which keeps my little loaf of bread
Unchipped, unflead!

Some brittle sticks of thorn or briar

Make me a fire;

Close by whose living coal I sit,

And glow like it

LORD! I confess too, when I dine,
The Pulse is Thine!

And all those other bits, that be
There placed by Thee,

The Worts, the Purslain, and the mess
Of Watercress;

Which, of Thy kindness, Thou hast sent!
And my content

Makes those, and my beloved Beet,

To be more sweet!

'Tis Thou that crown'st my glittering hearth With guiltless mirth;

And giv'st me wassail bowls to drink,
Spiced to the brink!

LORD! 'tis Thy plenty-dropping hand.
That soils my land;

And giv'st me, for my bushel sown,
Twice ten for one!

Thou mak'st my teeming hen to lay
Her egg each day!

Besides my healthful ewes to bear
Me twins each year!

The while, the conduits of my kine
Run cream, for wine!

All these, and better, Thou dost send
Me to this end,

That I should render, for my part,

A thankful heart!

Which, fired with incense, I resign
As wholly Thine!

But the acceptance; that must be,
My CHRIST, by Thee!

TO DAISIES: NOT TO SHUT TOO SOON!
SHUT not so soon! The dull-eyed night
Has not, as yet, begun
To make a seizure on the light;
Or to seal up the sun!

No Marigolds yet closed are;
No shadows great appear;
Nor doth the early Shepherd's Star
Shine like a spangle here!

Stay but till my JULIA close

Her life-begetting eye!

And let the whole world then dispose
Itself to live, or die!

'CHERRY RIPE!'

'CHERRY ripe! ripe! ripe!' I cry,
'Full and fair ones! Come and buy!'
If so be, you ask me, 'Where
They do grow?' I answer, 'There,
Where my JULIA'S lips do smile!
There's the land, or Cherry Isle;
Whose Plantations fully show,
All the year, where cherries grow!'

UPON TIME.

TIME was upon
The wing, to fly away;
And I called on
Him, but a while to stay:
But he'd be gone,
For aught that I could say.

He held out then

A Writing, as he went;

And asked me, 'When

False Man would be content
To pay again,

What GOD and Nature lent?'

An hour-glass,

In which were sands but few,
As he did pass,

He showed; and told me too,
Mine end near was.
And so away he flew!

ETERNITY.

O, YEARS! and Age! farewell!

Behold, I go

Where I do know

Infinity to dwell!

And these mine eyes shall see
All times; how they

Are lost i' th' sea

Of vast Eternity!

Where never Moon shall sway

The stars; but she,

And Night, shall be
Drowned in one endless Day!

O, Time! that cutt'st down all!

And scarce leav'st here

Memorial

Of any men that were;

How many lie forgot

In vaults beneath!

And piecemeal rot,

Without a fame in death!