Verse > Anthologies > Andrew Macphail, ed. > The Book of Sorrow
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Andrew Macphail, comp.  The Book of Sorrow.  1916.
 
XI. O Come Quickly
‘Never weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore’
By Thomas Campion (1567–1620)
 
NEVER weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore,
Never tirèd pilgrim’s limbs affected slumber more,
Than my wearied sprite now longs to fly out of my troubled breast.
O come quickly, sweetest Lord, and take my soul to rest.
 
Ever-blooming are the joys of Heaven’s high paradise,        5
Cold age deafs not there our ears, nor vapour dims our eyes:
Glory there the Sun outshines, whose beams the blessèd only see;
O come quickly, glorious Lord, and raise my sprite to Thee.
 
 
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