George Herbert


THE SONNE.

LET forrain nations of their language boast,
What fine varietie each tongue affords :
I like our language, as our men and coast ;
Who cannot dresse it well, want wit, not words.
How neatly do we give one onely name
To parents issue and the sunnes bright starre !
A sonne is light and fruit ;  a fruitfull flame
Chasing the fathers dimnesse, carri�d far
From the first man in th� East, to fresh and new
Western discov�ries of posteritie.
So in one word our Lords humilitie
We turn upon him in a sense most true :
    For what Christ once in humblenesse began,
    We him in glorie call, The Sonne of Man.




Source:
Herbert, George. The Poetical Works of George Herbert.
New York: D. Appleton and Co., 1857. 214.


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