False life, a foil and no more, when <br />Wilt thou be gone? <br />Thou foul deception of all men <br />That would not have the true come on. <br /> <br />Thou art a moon-like toil, a blind <br />Self-posing state, <br />A dark contest of waves and wind, <br />A mere tempestuous debate. <br /> <br />Life is a fixed, discerning light, <br />A knowing joy; <br />No chance or fit, but ever bright <br />And calm and full, yet doth not cloy. <br /> <br />'Tis such a blissful thing that still <br />Doth vivify <br />And shine and smile and hath the skill <br />To please without eternity. <br /> <br />Thou art a toilsome mole, or less; <br />A moving mist; <br />But life is what none can express: <br />A quickness which my God hath kissed.<br /><br />Henry Vaughan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/quickness/
