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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=396353" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Forerunners</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The harbingers are come. See, see their mark; <br>White is their colour, and behold my head. <br>But must they have my brain? must they dispark <br>Those sparkling notions, which therein were bred? <br>Must dulnesse turn me to a clod? <br>Yet have they left me, Thou art still my God. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Good men ye be, to leave me my best room, <br>Ev'n all my heart, and what is lodged there: <br>I passe not, I, what of the rest become, <br>So Thou art still my God, be out of fear. <br>He will be pleased with that dittie; <br>And if I please him, I write fine and wittie. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Farewell sweet phrases, lovely metaphors. <br>But will ye leave me thus? when ye before <br>Of stews and brothels onely knew the doores, <br>Then did I wash you with my tears, and more, <br>Brought you to Church well drest and clad; <br>My God must have my best, ev'n all I had. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Louely enchanting language, sugar-cane, <br>Hony of roses, whither wilt thou flie? <br>Hath some fond lover tic'd thee to thy bane? <br>And wilt thou leave the Church, and love a stie? <br>Fie, thou wilt soil thy broider'd coat, <br>And hurt thy self, and him that sings the note. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let foolish lovers, if they will love dung, <br>With canvas, not with arras clothe their shame: <br>Let follie speak in her own native tongue. <br>True beautie dwells on high: ours is a flame <br>But borrow'd thence to light us thither. <br>Beautie and beauteous words should go together. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet if you go, I passe not; take your way: <br>For, Thou art still my God, is all that ye <br>Perhaps with more embellishment can say, <br>Go birds of spring: let winter have his fee, <br>Let a bleak palenesse chalk the doore, <br>So all within be livelier then before.</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=396353" data-title="The Forerunners de George Herbert" data-description="The harbingers are come. See, see their mark; 
White is their colour, and behold my head. 
But must they have my brain? must they dispark 
Those sparkling notions, which therein were bred? 
Must dulnesse turn me to a clod? 
Yet have they left me, ..."></div>
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