Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.rnVol. II. The Seventeenth Century: Ben Jonson to Dryden

George Herbert (1593–1633)

Employment

HE that is weary, let him sit;

My soul would stir

And trade in courtesies and wit;

Quitting the fur

To cold complexions needing it.

Man is no star, but a quick coal

Of mortal fire:

Who blows it not, nor doth control

A faint desire,

Lets his own ashes choke his soul.

*****

Oh that I were an orange-tree,

That busy plant!

Then should I ever laden be,

And never want

Some fruit for him that dressèd me.

But we are still too young or old;

The man is gone

Before we do our wares unfold;

So we freeze on,

Until the grave increase our cold.