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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409324" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Vanity Of Spirit</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Quite spent with thoughts, I left my cell and lay<br>Where a shrill spring tuned to the early day.<br>I begged here long, and groaned to know<br>Who gave the clouds so brave a bow,<br>Who bent the spheres, and circled in<br>Corruption with this glorious ring;<br>What is His name, and how I might<br>Descry some part of His great light.<br>I summoned nature: pierced through all her store,<br>Broke up some seals which none had touched before:<br>Her womb, her bosom, and her head<br>Where all her secrets lay abed,<br>I rifled quite; and having passed<br>Through all her creatures, came at last<br>To search myself, where I did find<br>Traces and sounds of a strange kind.<br>Here of this mighty spring I found some drills,<br>With echoes beaten from the eternal hills;<br>Weak beams and fires flashed to my sight,<br>Like a young east, or moonshine night,<br>Which showed me in a nook cast by <br>A piece of much antiquity,<br>With hieroglyphics quite dismembered,<br>And broken letters scarce remembered.<br>I took them up and, much joyed, went about<br>To unite those pieces, hoping to find out<br>The mystery; but this ne'er done,<br>That little light I had was gone:<br>It grieved me much. At last, said I, <br>Since in these veils my eclipsed eye<br>May not approach Thee (for at night<br>Who can have commerce with the light?),<br>I'll disapparel, and to buy<br>But one half glance, mist gladly die.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Vaughan">Henry Vaughan</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=409324" data-title="Vanity Of Spirit de Henry Vaughan" data-description="Quite spent with thoughts, I left my cell and lay
Where a shrill spring tuned to the early day.
I begged here long, and groaned to know
Who gave the clouds so brave a bow,
Who bent the spheres, and circled in
Corruption with this glorious ring;
Wh..."></div>
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