John Donne, La Corona
, ca. 1607; offered to you in serial form for your meditation this blessed Adventtide. With two funerals to conduct this week (sandwiched in among the seven other services), I am appreciating Donne's expression of the Christian hope . From DONNE, The Laurel Poetry Series, Richard Wilbur, General Editor. New York: Dell Publishing, 1962.
I. LA CORONA
Deigne at my hands this crown of prayer and praise,
Weav'd in my low devout melancholie,
Thou which of good, hast, yea art treasury,
All changing unchang'd Antient of dayes,
But doe not, with a vile crowne of fraile bayes,
Reward my muses white sincerity,
But what thy thorny crowne gain'd, that give mee,
A crowne of Glory, which doth flower alwayes;
The ends crowne our workes, but thou crown'st our ends,
For, at our end begins our endlesse rest,
This first last end, now zealously possest,
With a strong sober thirst, my soule attends.
'Tis time that heart and voice be lifted high,
Salvation to all that will is nigh.