Richard Crashaw Quotes

28 Sourced Quotes

Days that need borrow
No part of their good morrow
From a fore-spent night of sorrow.

Richard Crashaw
Hark! She is called, the parting hour is come. Take thy farewell, poor world! Heaven must go home....

Richard Crashaw
In love's field was never found A nobler weapon than a wound.

Richard Crashaw
A happy soul, that all the way
To heaven hath a summer's day.

Richard Crashaw
Poor World (said I) what wilt thou do
To entertain this starry stranger?
Is this the best thou canst bestow?
A cold, and not too cleanly, manger?
Contend, ye powers of heav'n and earth
To fit a bed for this huge birth.

Richard Crashaw
Welcome, all wonders in one sight!
Eternity shut in a span.

Richard Crashaw
Nights, sweet as they, Made short by lovers play, Yet long by the absence of the day.

Richard Crashaw
Great little One! whose all-embracing birth
Lifts Earth to Heaven, stoops Heaven to Earth.

Richard Crashaw
Life that dares send
A challenge to his end,
And when it comes, say, Welcome, friend!

Richard Crashaw
A pillow for thee will I bring, Stuffed with down of angel's wing.

Richard Crashaw
Love's passives are his activ'st part.
The wounded is the wounding heart.

Richard Crashaw
All is Caesar's; and what odds
So long as Caesar's self is God's?

Richard Crashaw
I would be married, but I'd have no wife,
I would be married to a single life.

Richard Crashaw
It is love's great artillery
Which here contracts itself and comes to lie
Close couched in your white bosom.

Richard Crashaw
And when life's sweet fable ends,
Soul and body part like friends;
No quarrels, murmurs, no delay;
A kiss, a sigh, and so away.

Richard Crashaw
Two walking baths; two weeping motions;
Portable, and compendious oceans.

Richard Crashaw
Whoe'er she be,
That not impossible she,
That shall command my heart and me.

Richard Crashaw
Proud world, said I, cease your contest,
And let the mighty babe alone.
The phoenix builds the phoenix' nest.
Love's architecture is his own.
The babe whose birth embraves this morn,
Made his own bed ere he was born.

Richard Crashaw
Where'er she lie,
Locked up from mortal eye,
In shady leaves of destiny.

Richard Crashaw
Thou water turn'st to wine, fair friend of life;
Thy foe, to cross the sweet arts of Thy reign,
Distils from thence the tears of wrath and strife,
And so turns wine to water back again.

Richard Crashaw
Sidnaeian showers
Of sweet discourse, whose powers
Can crown old Winter's head with flowers.

Richard Crashaw
Sydneian showers
Of sweet discourse, whose powers
Can crown old Winter's head with flowers.

Richard Crashaw
Lord, what is man? Why should he cost thee
So dear? What had his ruin lost thee?
Lord, what is man, that thou hast overbought
So much a thing of nought?

Richard Crashaw
The modest front of this small floor,
Believe me, reader, can say more
Than many a braver marble can,—
Here lies a truly honest man!

Richard Crashaw
All thy old woes shall now smile on thee, and thy pains sit bright on thee. All thy sorrows here shall shine and thy sufferings be divine; Tears shall take comfort and turn to gems and wrongs repent to diadems Even thy deaths shall live and new dress the soul that once they slew.

Richard Crashaw