Short Poem 16

And so back to the good old metaphysicals. The very title of this poem by George Herbert (1593-1663) is full of mischief - he was an Anglican vicar sometimes full of choler (anger). Born in Wales to an artistic and wealthy family, he received a good education. At Trinity College, Cambridge, he excelled in languages and music. He intended to be a priest but he attracted the attention of James I and served in Parliament two years. After James' death, at the urging of a friend he renewed his interest in the ministry and in 1630 gave up his secular ambitions and took Anglican orders, spending the rest of his life as rector of St Andrew Bemerton, near Salisbury. He was a diligent high church pastor. Throughout his life he wrote religious poems characterised by precise language, metrical versatility and ingenious use of imagery or conceits as favoured by the metaphysical school.

The Collar

I Struck the board, and cry’d, No more.
I will abroad.
What? shall I ever sigh and pine?
My lines and life are free; free as the rode,
Loose as the winde, as large as store.
Shall I be still in suit?
Have I no harvest but a thorn
To let me bloud, and not restore
What I have lost with cordiall fruit?
Sure there was wine
Before my sighs did drie it: there was corn
Before my tears did drown it.
Is the yeare onely lost to me?
Have I no bayes to crown it?
No flowers, no garlands gay? all blasted?
All wasted?
Not so, my heart: but there is fruit,
And thou hast hands.
Recover all thy sigh-blown age
On double pleasures: leave thy cold dispute
Of what is fit, and not. Forsake thy cage,
Thy rope of sands,
Which pettie thoughts have made, and made to thee
Good cable, to enforce and draw,
And be thy law,
While thou didst wink and wouldst not see.
Away; take heed:
I will abroad.
Call in thy deaths head there: tie up thy fears.
He that forbears
To suit and serve his need,
Deserves his load.
But as I rav’d and grew more fierce and wilde
At every word,
Me thoughts I heard one calling, Childe:
And I reply’d, My Lord.