Classic Poem

Though since thy first sad entrance by
Just Abel's blood
'Tis now six thousand years well nigh,
And still thy sovereignty holds good,
Yet by none art thou understood.

We talk and name thee with much ease
As a tried thing,
And everyone can slight his lease
As if it ended in a spring
Which shades and bowers doth rent-free bring.

To thy dark land these heedless go:
But there was one
Who searched it quite through to and fro,
And then returning, like the sun,
Discovered all that there is done.

And since his death we throughly see
All thy dark way;
Thy shades but thin and narrow be,
Which his first looks will quickly fray:
Mists make but triumphs for the day.

As harmless violets, which give
Their virtues here
For salves and syrups while they live,
Do after calmly disappear,
And neither grieve, repine nor fear:

So die his servants; and as sure
Shall they revive.
Then let not dust your eyes obscure
But lift them up, where still alive
Though fled from you their spirits hive.

Though since thy first sad entrance by
Just Abel's blood
'Tis now six thousand years well nigh,
And still thy sovereignty holds good,
Yet by none art thou understood.

We talk and name thee with much ease
As a tried thing,
And everyone can slight his lease
As if it ended in a spring
Which shades and bowers doth rent-free bring.

To thy dark land these heedless go:
But there was one
Who searched it quite through to and fro,
And then returning, like the sun,
Discovered all that there is done.

And since his death we throughly see
All thy dark way;
Thy shades but thin and narrow be,
Which his first looks will quickly fray:
Mists make but triumphs for the day.

As harmless violets, which give
Their virtues here
For salves and syrups while they live,
Do after calmly disappear,
And neither grieve, repine nor fear:

So die his servants; and as sure
Shall they revive.
Then let not dust your eyes obscure
But lift them up, where still alive
Though fled from you their spirits hive.