I see them walking in an air of glory Whose light doth trample on my days, My days, which are at best but dull and hoary, Mere glimmering and decays. - Henry Vaughan

I will on thee as on a comet look, A comet, the sad world's ill-boding book; Thy light as luctual and stain'd with woes I'll judge, where penal flames sit mixt and close. But though some think thou shin'st but to restrain Bold storms, and simply dost attend on rain; Yet I know well, and so our sins require, Thou dost but court cold rain, till rain turns fire.

When thou dost shine, darkness looks white and fair, Forms turn to musick, clouds to smiles and air; Rain gently spends his honey-drops, and pours Balm on the cleft earth, milk on grass and flowers. Bright pledge of peace and sun-shine! the sure tye Of thy Lord's hand, the object of his eye. When I behold thee, though my light be dim, Distant, and low, I can in thine see Him Who looks upon thee from his glorious throne, And mindes the covenant 'twixt all and One.

They are all gone into the world of light! And I alone sit lingering here; Their very memory is fair and bright, And my sad thoughts doth clear.