RICHARD CRASHAW
51
By all the eagle in thee, all the dove;
By all thy lives and deaths of love;
By thy larg, draughts of intellectual day,—
And by thy thirsts of love, more larg than they;
By all thy brim-fill'd bowles of fierce desire;
By thy last morning's draught of liquid fire;
By the full kingdome of that finall kisse
That seiz'd thy parting soul, and seal'd thee His;
By all the Heav'ns thou hast in Him,
(Fair sister of the seraphim!)
By all of Him we have in thee,
Leave nothing of myself in me;
Let me so read thy life, that I
Unto all life of mine may dy!
And once having heard, could we, by any chance, confuse this voice with another's?
