- Jordan
- by George Herbert
- Exported from Wikisource on 02/07/20
- When first my lines of heav'nly joyes made mention,
- Such was their lustre, they did so excell,
- That I sought out quaint words, and trim invention ;
- My thoughts began to burnish, sprout, and swell,
- Curling with metaphors a plain intention,
- Decking the sense, as if it were to sell.
- Thousands of notions in my brain did runne,
- Off'ring their service, if I were not sped :
- I often blotted what I had begunne ;
- This was not quick enough, and that was dead.
- Nothing could seem too rich to clothe the sunne,
- Much lesse those joyes which trample on his head.
- As flames do work and winde, when they ascend,
- So did I weave my self into the sense.
- But while I bustled, I might heare a friend
- Whisper, How wide is all this long pretence !
- There is in love a sweetnesse readie penn'd :
- Copie out only that, and save expense.
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