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Henry Charles Beeching, ed. (1859–1919). Lyra Sacra: A Book of Religious Verse. 1903.

By Giles Fletcher (1588?–1623)

The Resurrection

BUT now the second morning from her bow’r
Began to glister in her beams, and now
The roses of the day began to flow’r
In th’ eastern garden; for heav’n’s smiling brow
Half insolent for joy, began to show;        5
    The early sun came lively dancing out,
    And the brag lambs ran wantoning about,
That heav’n and earth might seem in triumph both to shout.
Say, earth, why hast thou got thee new attire,
And stick’st thy habit full of daisies red!        10
Seems that thou dost to some high thought aspire,
And some new-found-out bridegroom mean’st to wed:
Tell me, ye trees, so fresh apparelled,—
    So never let the spiteful canker waste you,
    So never let the heav’ns with lightning blast you,—        15
Why go you now so trimly drest, or whither haste you?
Answer me, Jordan, why thy crooked tide
So often wanders from his nearest way,
As though some other way thy stream would slide,
And fain salute the place where something lay.        20
And you, sweet birds, that shaded from the ray
    Sit carolling and piping grief away,
    The while the lambs to hear you dance and play,
Tell me, sweet birds, what is it you so fain would say?
Ye primroses and purple violets,        25
Tell me, why blaze ye from your leavy beds,
And woo men’s hands to rend you from your sets,
As though you would somewhere be carried,
With fresh perfumes, and velvets garnished?
    But ah! I need not ask, ’tis surely so,        30
    You all would to your Saviour’s triumph go,
There would ye all await, and humble homage do.