| Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900. |
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| Henry Vaughan. 1621–1695 |
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| 364. The Timber |
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| SURE thou didst flourish once! and many springs, | |
| Many bright mornings, much dew, many showers, | |
| Pass'd o'er thy head; many light hearts and wings, | |
| Which now are dead, lodg'd in thy living bowers. | |
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| And still a new succession sings and flies; | 5 |
| Fresh groves grow up, and their green branches shoot | |
| Towards the old and still enduring skies, | |
| While the low violet thrives at their root. | |
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| But thou beneath the sad and heavy line | |
| Of death, doth waste all senseless, cold, and dark; | 10 |
| Where not so much as dreams of light may shine, | |
| Nor any thought of greenness, leaf, or bark. | |
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| And yet—as if some deep hate and dissent, | |
| Bred in thy growth betwixt high winds and thee, | |
| Were still alive—thou dost great storms resent | 15 |
| Before they come, and know'st how near they be. | |
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| Else all at rest thou liest, and the fierce breath | |
| Of tempests can no more disturb thy ease; | |
| But this thy strange resentment after death | |
| Means only those who broke—in life—thy peace. | 20 |
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