Thursday, 8 January 2009

From: 'On Christmas Day' (1-11) by Thomas Traherne (1652-1674)

Shake off thy Sloth, my drowsy Soul, awake;
With Angels sing
Unto thy King,
And pleasant Music make;
Thy Lute, thy Harp, or else thy Heart-strings take,
And with thy Music let thy sense awake.
See how each one the other calls
To fix his Ivy on the walls.
Transplanted there it seems to grow
As if it rooted were below:
Thus He, who is thy King,
Makes Winter, Spring.

2 comments:

  1. Sorry; I was mistakenly referring to the other piece of writing. This is ini fact a section from a poem by Thomas Traherne, who was a metaphysical poet in the sixteenth century. It is taken from 'On Christmas Day'.

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