The Rain-bow by Thomas Love Peacock

The Rain-bow

By Thomas Love Peacock

 

The day has pass’d in storms, though not unmix’d
With transitory calm.   The western clouds,
Dissolving slow, unveil the glorious sun,
Majestic in decline.   The wat’ry east
Glows with the many-tinted arch of Heav’n.
We hail it as a pledge that brighter skies
Shall bless the coming morn.   Thus rolls the day,
The short dark day of life;   with tempests thus,
And fleeting sun-shine chequer’d.   At its close,
When the dread hour draws near, that bursts all ties,
All commerce with the world, Religion pours
Hope’s fairy-colors on the virtuous mind,
And, like the rain-bow on the ev’ning clouds,
Gives the bright promise that a happier dawn
Shall chase the night and silence of the grave.

The Pulley by George Herbert

The Pulley

By George Herbert

 

  When God at first made man,

Having a glass of blessings standing by,

"Let us,” said he, “pour on him all we can.
Let the world’s riches, which dispersèd lie,
   Contract into a span.”
 
   So strength first made a way;
Then beauty flowed, then wisdom, honour, pleasure.
When almost all was out, God made a stay,
Perceiving that, alone of all his treasure,
   Rest in the bottom lay.
 
   “For if I should,” said he,
“Bestow this jewel also on my creature,
He would adore my gifts instead of me,
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature;
   So both should losers be.

 

   “Yet let him keep the rest,

But keep them with repining restlessness;

Let him be rich and weary, that at least,

If goodness lead him not, yet weariness

   May toss him to my breast.”