The Weeper

Richard Crashaw 1612 (London) – 1649 (Loreto, Marche)



HAIL, sister springs,
Parents of silver-footed rills!
   Ever bubbling things,
Thawing crystal, snowy hills!
   Still spending, never spent; I mean
   Thy fair eyes, sweet Magdalene.

   Heavens thy fair eyes be;
Heavens of ever-falling stars;
   'Tis seed-time still with thee,
And stars thou sow'st whose harvest dares
   Promise the earth to countershine
   Whatever makes Heaven's forehead fine.

   Every morn from hence
A brisk cherub something sips
   Whose soft influence
Adds sweetness to his sweetest lips;
   Then to his music: and his song
   Tastes of this breakfast all day long.

   When some new bright guest
Takes up among the stars a room,
   And Heaven will make a feast,
Angels with their bottles come,
   And draw from these full eyes of thine
   Their Master's water, their own wine.

   The dew no more will weep
The primrose's pale cheek to deck;
   The dew no more will sleep
Nuzzled in the lily's neck:
   Much rather would it tremble here,
   And leave them both to be thy tear.

   When sorrow would be seen
In her brightest majesty,
   --For she is a Queen--
Then is she drest by none but thee:
   Then and only then she wears
   Her richest pearls--I mean thy tears.

   Not in the evening's eyes,
When they red with weeping are
   For the Sun that dies,
Sits Sorrow with a face so fair.
   Nowhere but here did ever meet
   Sweetness so sad, sadness so sweet.

   Does the night arise?
Still thy tears do fall and fall.
   Does night lose her eyes?
Still the fountain weeps for all.
   Let day and night do what they will,
   Thou hast thy task, thou weepest still.

   Not So long she lived
Will thy tomb report of thee;
   But So long she grieved:
Thus must we date thy memory.
   Others by days, by months, by years,
   Measure their ages, thou by tears.

   Say, ye bright brothers,
The fugitive sons of those fair eyes
   Your fruitful mothers,
What make you here? What hopes can 'tice
   You to be born? What cause can borrow
   You from those nests of noble sorrow?

   Whither away so fast
For sure the sordid earth
   Your sweetness cannot taste,
Nor does the dust deserve your birth.
   Sweet, whither haste you then? O say,
   Why you trip so fast away?

   We go not to seek
The darlings of Aurora's bed,
   The rose's modest cheek,
Nor the violet's humble head.
   No such thing: we go to meet
   A worthier object--our Lord's feet.

Font size:
Collection  PDF     
 

Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on April 27, 2023

2:04 min read
139

Quick analysis:

Scheme AAAXBB CXCDBE XFXFGG XXXXEE HIHIXJ BCBCDD KXKJLL KMKMNN XCXCXD OKOXPP XQXQRR STSTLL
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 2,373
Words 406
Stanzas 12
Stanza Lengths 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6

Richard Crashaw

Richard Crashaw, was an English poet, styled "the divine," and known as one of the central figures associated with the Metaphysical poets in 17th Century English literature. The son of a prominent Puritan minister, Crashaw was educated at Charterhouse School and Pembroke College, Cambridge. After taking a degree, Crashaw began to publish religious poetry and to teach at Cambridge. During the English Civil War he was ejected from his college position and went into exile in Italy. While in exile he converted from Anglicanism to Roman Catholicism. Crashaw's poetry is firmly within the Metaphysical tradition. Though his oeuvre is considered of uneven quality and among the weakest examples of the genre, his work is said to be marked by a focus toward "love with the smaller graces of life and the profounder truths of religion, while he seems forever preoccupied with the secret architecture of things." more…

All Richard Crashaw poems | Richard Crashaw Books

1 fan

Discuss the poem The Weeper with the community...

0 Comments

    Translation

    Find a translation for this poem in other languages:

    Select another language:

    • - Select -
    • 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
    • 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
    • Español (Spanish)
    • Esperanto (Esperanto)
    • 日本語 (Japanese)
    • Português (Portuguese)
    • Deutsch (German)
    • العربية (Arabic)
    • Français (French)
    • Русский (Russian)
    • ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
    • 한국어 (Korean)
    • עברית (Hebrew)
    • Gaeilge (Irish)
    • Українська (Ukrainian)
    • اردو (Urdu)
    • Magyar (Hungarian)
    • मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
    • Indonesia (Indonesian)
    • Italiano (Italian)
    • தமிழ் (Tamil)
    • Türkçe (Turkish)
    • తెలుగు (Telugu)
    • ภาษาไทย (Thai)
    • Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
    • Čeština (Czech)
    • Polski (Polish)
    • Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
    • Românește (Romanian)
    • Nederlands (Dutch)
    • Ελληνικά (Greek)
    • Latinum (Latin)
    • Svenska (Swedish)
    • Dansk (Danish)
    • Suomi (Finnish)
    • فارسی (Persian)
    • ייִדיש (Yiddish)
    • հայերեն (Armenian)
    • Norsk (Norwegian)
    • English (English)

    Citation

    Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:

    Style:MLAChicagoAPA

    "The Weeper" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Mar. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/30067/the-weeper>.

    Become a member!

    Join our community of poets and poetry lovers to share your work and offer feedback and encouragement to writers all over the world!

    March 2024

    Poetry Contest

    Join our monthly contest for an opportunity to win cash prizes and attain global acclaim for your talent.
    2
    days
    23
    hours
    17
    minutes

    Special Program

    Earn Rewards!

    Unlock exciting rewards such as a free mug and free contest pass by commenting on fellow members' poems today!

    Browse Poetry.com

    Quiz

    Are you a poetry master?

    »
    Who wrote the poem "No Man Is An Island"?
    A Ezra Pound
    B Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
    C Robert Browning
    D John Donne