|
| OF THE |
| PROGRESS |
| OF THE SOUL. |
|
| The second Anniversary. |
|
| Nothing could make me sooner to confess |
| That this world had an everlastingness, |
| Then to consider that a year is run, |
| Since both this lower worlds, and the Suns Sun, |
| The lustre and the vigour of this all |
| Did set; 'twere blasphemy to say, did fall. |
| But as a ship which hath strook sail doth run |
| By force of that force which before it won: |
| Or as sometimes in a beheaded man, |
| Though at those two Red seas, which freely ran, |
| One from the Trunk, another from the Head, |
| His soul be sail'd, to her eternal bed, |
| His eyes will twinkle, and his tongue will roul, |
| As though he beckned and call'd back his soul, |
| He grasps his hands, and he pulls up his feet, |
| And seems to reach, and to step forth to meet |
| His soul; when all these motions which we saw, |
| Are but as Ice, which crackles at a thaw: |
| Or as a Lute, which in moist weather, rings |
| Her knel alone, by cracking of her strings. |
| So struggles this dead world, now she is gone: |
| For there is motion in corruption.
|
[CW: As] |