Henry Charles Beeching, ed. (1859–1919). Lyra Sacra: A Book of Religious Verse. 1903.
By Andrew Marvell (1621–1678)On a Drop of Dew
| SEE, how the orient dew, | |
| Shed from the bosom of the morn | |
| Into the blowing roses | |
| (Yet careless of its mansion new, | |
| For the clear region where ’twas born), | 5 |
| Round in itself encloses; | |
| And in its little globe’s extent, | |
| Frames, as it can, its native element. | |
| How it the purple flower does slight, | |
| Scarce touching where it lies; | 10 |
| But gazing back upon the skies, | |
| Shines with a mournful light, | |
| Like its own tear, | |
| Because so long divided from the sphere. | |
| Restless it rolls, and unsecure, | 15 |
| Trembling, lest it grow impure; | |
| Till the warm sun pity its pain, | |
| And to the skies exhale it back again. | |
| So the soul, that drop, that ray | |
| Of the clear fountain of eternal day | 20 |
| (Could it within the human flower be seen), | |
| Remembering still its former height, | |
| Shuns the sweet leaves, and blossoms green, | |
| And, recollecting its own light, | |
| Does in its pure and circling thoughts express | 25 |
| The greater heaven in an heaven less. | |
| In how coy a figure wound, | |
| Every way it turns away; | |
| So the world excluding round, | |
| Yet receiving in the day; | 30 |
| Dark beneath, but bright above, | |
| Here disdaining, there in love. | |
| How loose and easy hence to go; | |
| How girt and ready to ascend; | |
| Moving but on a point below, | 35 |
| It all about does upwards bend. | |
| Such did the manna’s sacred dew distil; | |
| White and entire, though congealed and chill; | |
| Congealed on earth; but does, dissolving, run | |
| Into the glories of the Almighty sun. | 40 |