POEMS BY THOMAS CAMPION
O COME QUICKLY!
by: Thomas Campion (1567?-1619)
- EVER weather-beaten
sail more willingly bent to shore,
- Never tirèd pilgrim's limbs affected slumber more,
- Than my wearied sprite now longs to fly out of my troubled
- O come quickly, sweetest Lord, and take my soul to rest!
- Ever blooming are the joys of heaven's high Paradise,
- Cold age deafs not there our ears nor vapour dims our eyes:
- Glory there the sun outshines; whose beams the Blessèd
- O come quickly, glorious Lord, and raise my sprite to Thee!