See how the Orient Dew, <br />Shed from the Bosom of the Morn <br />Into the blowing Roses, <br />Yet careless of its Mansion new; <br />For the clear Region where 'twas born <br />Round in its self incloses: <br />And in its little Globes Extent, <br />Frames as it can its native Element. <br />How it the purple flow'r does slight, <br />Scarce touching where it lyes, <br />But gazing back upon the Skies, <br />Shines with a mournful Light; <br />Like its own Tear, <br />Because so long divided from the Sphear. <br />Restless it roules and unsecure, <br />Trembling lest it grow impure: <br />Till the warm Sun pitty it's Pain, <br />And to the Skies exhale it back again. <br />So the Soul, that Drop, that Ray <br />Of the clear Fountain of Eternal Day, <br />Could it within the humane flow'r be seen, <br />Remembring still its former height, <br />Shuns the sweat leaves and blossoms green; <br />And, recollecting its own Light, <br />Does, in its pure and circling thoughts, express <br />The greater Heaven in an Heaven less. <br />In how coy a Figure wound, <br />Every way it turns away: <br />So the World excluding round, <br />Yet receiving in the Day. <br />Dark beneath, but bright above: <br />Here disdaining, there in Love. <br />How loose and easie hence to go: <br />How girt and ready to ascend. <br />Moving but on a point below, <br />It all about does upwards bend. <br />Such did the Manna's sacred Dew destil; <br />White, and intire, though congeal'd and chill. <br />Congeal'd on Earth: but does, dissolving, run <br />Into the Glories of th' Almighty Sun.<br /><br />Andrew Marvell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-a-drop-of-dew/
