Once at thy Feast, I saw thee Pearle-like stand
'Tween Heaven and Earth, where Heavens Bright glory all
In streams fell on thee, as a floodgate and
Like Sun Beams through thee on the World to Fall.
Oh! Sugar sweet then! My Deare sweet Lord, I see
Saints Heaven-lost Happiness restor'd by thee.

(Edward Taylor (1645-1729), U.S. poet. Preparatory Meditations; IV. Lord, art thou at the table head above (l. 25-30). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.)

In this sad state, God Tender Bowells run
Out streams of Grace: And he to end all strife
The Purest Wheate in Heaven, his deare-dear Son
Grinds, and kneads up into this Bread of Life.
Which Bread of Life from Heaven down came and stands
Disht on thy Table up by Angells Hands.

(Edward Taylor (1645-1729), U.S. poet. Preparatory Meditations; VIII. I Am the Living Bread (l. 19-24). . . Norton Anthology of Poetry, The. Alexander W. Allison and others, eds. (3d ed., 1983) W. W. Norton & Company.)

Oh! that thy love might overflow my Heart!
To fire the same with Love: for Love I would.
But oh! my streight'ned Breast! my Lifeless Sparke!
My Fireless Flame! What Chilly Love, and Cold?
In measure small! In Manner Chilly! See!
Lord, blow the Coal: Thy Love Enflame in mee.

(Edward Taylor (1645-1729), U.S. poet. Preparatory Meditations; I. What love is this of thing (l. 13-18). . . Poets of the English Language, Vols. I-V. Vol. I: Langland to Spenser; Vol. II: Marlowe to Marvell; Vol. III: Milton to Goldsmith; Vol. IV: Blake to Poe; Vol. V: Tennyson to Yeats. W. H. Auden and Norman Holmes Pearson, eds. (1950) The Viking Press.)

Make me thy Loome: thy Grace the warfe therein,
My duties Woofe, and let thy word winde Quills.
The shuttle shoot. Cut off the ends my sins.
Thy Ordinances make my fulling mills,
My Life thy Web: and cloath me all my dayes
With this Gold-web of Glory to thy praise.

(Edward Taylor (1645-1729), U.S. poet. Huswifery (l. 7-12). . . Norton Anthology of Poetry, The. Alexander W. Allison and others, eds. (3d ed., 1983) W. W. Norton & Company.)

As if her velvet helmet high
Did turret rationality.
She fans her wing up to the winde
As if her Pettycoate were lin'de
With reasons fleece, and hoises saile
And humming flies in thankfull gaile

(Edward Taylor (1645-1729), U.S. poet. Upon a Wasp Chilled with Cold (l. 21-26). . . Poets of the English Language, Vols. I-V. Vol. I: Langland to Spenser; Vol. II: Marlowe to Marvell; Vol. III: Milton to Goldsmith; Vol. IV: Blake to Poe; Vol. V: Tennyson to Yeats. W. H. Auden and Norman Holmes Pearson, eds. (1950) The Viking Press.)

One sorry fret,
An anvill Sparke, rose higher,
And in thy Temple falling, almost set
The house on fire.
Such fireballs dropping in the Temple Flame
Burns up the building: Lord, forbid the same.

(Edward Taylor (1645-1729), U.S. poet. An Address to the Soul Occasioned by a Rain (l. 25-30). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.)

Here of this fustian animall,
Till I enravisht climb into
The Godhead on this ladder doe:
Where all my pipes inspir'de upraise
And Heavenly musick, furr'd with praise.

(Edward Taylor (1645-1729), U.S. poet. Upon a Wasp Chilled with Cold (l. 40-44). . . Poets of the English Language, Vols. I-V. Vol. I: Langland to Spenser; Vol. II: Marlowe to Marvell; Vol. III: Milton to Goldsmith; Vol. IV: Blake to Poe; Vol. V: Tennyson to Yeats. W. H. Auden and Norman Holmes Pearson, eds. (1950) The Viking Press.)

This goes to pot, that not
Nature doth call.
Strive not above what strength hath got,
Lest in the brawle
Thou fall.

(Edward Taylor (1645-1729), U.S. poet. Upon a Spider Catching a Fly (l. 26-30). . . Norton Anthology of Poetry, The. Alexander W. Allison and others, eds. (3d ed., 1983) W. W. Norton & Company.)

To tangle Adams race
In's stratagems

(Edward Taylor (1645-1729), U.S. poet. Upon a Spider Catching a Fly (l. 36-37). . . Norton Anthology of Poetry, The. Alexander W. Allison and others, eds. (3d ed., 1983) W. W. Norton & Company.)

This Frey seems thus to us:
Hells Spider gets
His intrails spun to whip Cords thus,
And wove to nets,
And sets.

(Edward Taylor (1645-1729), U.S. poet. Upon a Spider Catching a Fly (l. 31-35). . . Norton Anthology of Poetry, The. Alexander W. Allison and others, eds. (3d ed., 1983) W. W. Norton & Company.)