The Star
Whatever 'tis, whose beauty here belowAttracts thee thus and makes thee stream and flow,And wind and curl, and wink and smile,Shifting thy gate and guile;
Though thy close commerce nought at all imbarsMy present search, for eagles eye not stars,And still the lesser by the bestAnd highest good is blest;
Yet, seeing all things that subsist and be,Have their commissions from divinity,And teach us duty, I will seeWhat man may learn from thee.
First, I am sure, the subject so respectedIs well dispos'd, for bodies once infected,Deprav'd, or dead, can have with theeNo hold, nor sympathy.
Next, there's in it a restless, pure desireAnd longing for thy bright and vital fire,Desire that never will be quench'd,Nor can be writh'd, nor wrench'd.
These are the magnets which so strongly moveAnd work all night upon thy light and love,As beauteous shapes, we know not why,Command and guide the eye.
For where desire, celestial, pure desireHath taken root, and grows, and doth not tire,There God a commerce states, and shedsHis secret on their heads.
This is the heart he craves, and who so willBut give it him, and grudge not, he shall feelThat God is true, as herbs unseenPut on their youth and green.
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