There growes the flowre of peace,
The Rose that cannot wither,

(Henry Vaughan (1622-1695), Welsh poet. Peace (l. 14-15). . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.)

No, no; Religion is a Spring
That from some secret, golden Mine
Derives her birth, and thence doth bring
Cordials in every drop, and Wine;

(Henry Vaughan (1622-1695), Welsh poet. Religion (l. 29-32). . . Oxford Anthology of English Literature, The, Vols. I-II. Frank Kermode and John Hollander, general eds. (1973) Oxford University Press (Also published as six paperback vols.: Medieval English Literature, J. B. Trapp, ed.; The Literature of Renaissance England, John Hollander and Frank Kermode, eds.; The Restoration and the Eighteenth Century, Martin Price, ed.; Romantic Poetry and Prose, Harold Bloom and Lionel Trilling, eds.; Victorian Prose and Poetry, Lionel Trilling and Harold Bloom, eds.; Modern British Literature, Frank Kermode and John Hollander, eds.).)

My Soul, there is a Countrie
Far beyond the stars

(Henry Vaughan (1622-1695), Welsh poet. Peace (l. 1-2). . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.)

"Lord," then said I, "on me one breath,
And let me die before my death!"

(Henry Vaughan (1622-1695), Welsh poet. Regeneration (l. 1-8). . . Norton Anthology of Poetry, The. Alexander W. Allison and others, eds. (3d ed., 1983) W. W. Norton & Company.)

A ward, and still in bonds, one day
I stole abroad;
It was high spring, and all the way
Primrosed and hung with shade;
Yet was it frost within,
And surly winds
Blasted my infant buds, and sin
Like clouds eclipsed my mind.

(Henry Vaughan (1622-1695), Welsh poet. Regeneration (l. 1-8). . . Norton Anthology of Poetry, The. Alexander W. Allison and others, eds. (3d ed., 1983) W. W. Norton & Company.)

Weighing the steadfastness and state
Of some mean things which here below reside,
Where birds like watchful clocks the noiseless date
And intercourse of times divide,

(Henry Vaughan (1622-1695), Welsh poet. Man (l. 1-4). . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.)

Sweet peace sits crown'd with smiles
And one born in a Manger
Commands the Beauteous files,

(Henry Vaughan (1622-1695), Welsh poet. Peace (l. 6-8). . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.)

Man hath still either toys or care:
But hath no root, nor to one place is tied,
But ever restless and irregular,
About this earth doth run and ride.
He knows he hath a home, but scarce knows where;
He says it is so far,
That he has quite forgot how to go there.

(Henry Vaughan (1622-1695), Welsh poet. Man, st. 3.)

He is thy gracious friend
And (O my Soul awake!)
Did in pure love descend
To die here for thy sake,

(Henry Vaughan (1622-1695), Welsh poet. Peace (l. 9-12). . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.)

Man is the shuttle, to whose winding quest
And passage through these looms
God ordered motion, but ordained no rest.

(Henry Vaughan (1622-1695), Welsh poet. Man (l. 26-28). . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.)