I greet Thy sepulchre, salute Thy grave,
That blest enclosure, where the angels gave
The first glad tidings of Thy early light,
And resurrection from the earth and night.
I see that morning in Thy convert’s tears,
Fresh as the dew, which but this dawning wears.
I smell her spices; and her ointment yields
As rich a scent as the now primros’d fields:
The Day-star smiles, and light, with the deceased,
Now shines in all the chambers of the East.
...Henry Vaughan image
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