The Retreat (Vaughan)

Happy those early days, when IShined in my Angel-infancy!Before I understood this placeAppointed for my second race,Or taught my soul to fancy aughtBut a white, celestial thought;When yet I had not walk'd aboveA mile or two from my first Love,And looking back, at that short spaceCould see a glimpse of His bright face;When on some gilded cloud or flowerMy gazing soul would dwell an hour,And in those weaker glories spySome shadows of eternity;Before I taught my tongue to woundMy conscience with a sinful sound,Or had the black art to dispenseA several sin to every sense,But felt through all this fleshy dressBright shoots of everlastingness.

O how I long to travel back,And tread again that ancient track!That I once more might reach that plain,Where first I felt my glorious train;From whence th' enlighten'd spirit seesThat shady City of Palm-trees!But ah! my soul with too much stayIs drunk, and stuggers in the way:---Some men a forward motion love,But I by backward steps would move;And when this dust falls to the urn,In that state I came, return.