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. | |