Peace
Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell, I humbly crave?
Let me once know.
I sought thee in a secret cave,
And asked if Peace were there.
A hollow wind did seem to answer, “No!
Go seek elsewhere.”
I did; and going did a Rainbow note:
“Surely,” thought I,
“This is the lace of Peace’s coat;
I will search out the matter.”
But while I looked the clouds immediately
Did break and scatter.
Then went I to a garden, and did spy
A gallant flower,—
The Crown-Imperial. “Sure,” said I,
“Peace at the root must dwell.”
But when I digged, I saw a worm devour
What showed so well.
At length I met a rev’rend, good, old man;
Whom, when for Peace
I did demand, he thus began:
“There was a Prince of old
At Salem dwelt, Who lived with good increase
Of flock and fold.
“He sweetly lived; yet sweetness did not save
His life from foes.
But after death, out of His grave
There sprang twelve stalks of Wheat;
Which many wondering at got some of those
To plant and set.
“It prospered strangely, and did soon disperse
Through all the Earth;
For they that taste it do rehearse
That virtue lies therein,—
A secret virtue, bringing Peace and Mirth
By flight of Sin.
“Take of this grain, which in my garden grows,
And grows for you:
Make bread of it; and that repose
And Peace, which ev’ry where
With so much earnestness you do pursue,
Is only there.”
George Herbert