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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=396343" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sunday</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">O day most calm, most bright <br>The fruit of this, the next world's bud, <br>Th'endorsement of supreme delight, <br>Writ by a friend, and with his blood; <br>The couch of time; care's balm and bay: <br>The week were dark, but for thy light: <br>Thy torch doth show the way. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The other days and thou <br>Make up one man; whose face thou art, <br>Knocking at heaven with thy brow: <br>The worky-days are the back-part; <br>The burden of the week lies there, <br>Making the whole to stoop and bow, <br>Till thy release appear. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Man had straight forward gone <br>To endless death: but thou dost pull <br>And turn us round to look on one, <br>Whom, if we were not very dull, <br>We could not choose to look on still; <br>Since there is no place so alone, <br>The which he doth not fill. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sundays the pillars are, <br>On which heav'n's palace arched lies: <br>The other days fill up the spare <br>And hollow room with vanities. <br>They are the fruitful beds and borders <br>In God's rich garden: that is bare, <br>Which parts their ranks and orders. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Sundays of man's life, <br>Threaded together on time's string, <br>Make bracelets to adorn the wife <br>Of the eternal glorious King. <br>On Sunday heaven's gate stands ope; <br>Blessings are plentiful and rife, <br>More plentiful than hope. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">This day my Saviour rose, <br>And did enclose this light for his: <br>That, as each beast his manger knows, <br>Man might not of his fodder miss. <br>Christ hath took in this piece of ground, <br>And made a garden there for those <br>Who want herbs for their wound. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The rest of our Creation <br>Our great Redeemer did remove <br>With the same shake, which at his passion <br>Did th'earth and all things with it move. <br>As Samson bore the doors away, <br>Christ's hands, though nail'd, wrought our salvation, <br>And did unhinge that day. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The brightness of that day <br>We sullied by our foul offence: <br>Wherefore that robe we cast away, <br>Having a new at his expense, <br>Whose drops of bloud paid the full price, <br>That was requir'd to make us gay, <br>And fit for Paradise. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou art a day of mirth: <br>And where the weekdays trail on ground, <br>Thy flight is higher, as thy birth. <br>O let me take thee at the bound, <br>Leaping with thee from sev'n to sev'n, <br>Till that we both, being toss'd from earth, <br>Fly hand in hand to heav'n!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=George+Herbert">George Herbert</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=396343" data-title="Sunday de George Herbert" data-description="O day most calm, most bright 
The fruit of this, the next world's bud, 
Th'endorsement of supreme delight, 
Writ by a friend, and with his blood; 
The couch of time; care's balm and bay: 
The week were dark, but for thy light: 
Thy torch doth show..."></div>
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