Richard Crashaw

  • From “Music’s Duel”
    NOW westward Sol had spent the richest beams
    Of noon’s high glory, when, hard by the streams
    Of Tiber, on the scene of a green plat,
    Under protection of an oak, there sat
    A sweet lute’s-master, in whose gentle airs
    He lost the...

  • Water Turned INTO WINE
    THE CONSCIOUS water saw its God and blushed.

    THE WIDOW’S MITES
    Two mites, two drops, yet all her house and land,
    Fall from a steady heart, though trembling hand:
    The other’s wanton wealth foams high, and brave;
    The other cast...

  • Whoe’er she be,
    That not impossible She
    That shall command my heart and me:

    Where’er she lie,
    Locked up from mortal eye
    In shady leaves of destiny:

    Till that ripe birth
    Of studied Fate stand forth,
    And teach her fair steps tread...