Peace

Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell? I humbly crave, Let me once know. I sought thee in a secret cave; And asked if Peace were there. A hollow wind did seem to answer, “No! Go, seek elsewhere.” I did; and, going, did a rainbow note: “Surely,” thought I, “This is the lace of Peace’s coat. I will search out the matter.” But, while I looked, the clouds immediately Did break and scatter. Then went I to a garden, and did spy A gallant flower,— The crown-imperial. “Sure,” said I, “Peace at the root must dwell.” But, when I digged, I saw a worm devour What showed so well. At length I met a reverend, good old man; Whom when for Peace I did demand, he thus began: “There was a prince of old At Salem dwelt, who lived with good increase Of flock and fold. “He sweetly lived; yet sweetness did not save His life from foes. But, after death, out of his grave There sprang twelve stalks of wheat; Which many wondering at, got some of those To plant and set. “It prospered strangely, and did soon disperse Through all the earth. For they that taste it do rehearse, That virtue lies therein,— A secret virtue, bringing peace and mirth, By flight of sin. “Take of this grain, which in my garden grows, And grows for you: Make bread of it; and that repose And peace which everywhere With so much earnestness you do pursue, Is only there.”