By George Herbert

O who will show me those delights on high?
                    Echo.                              I.
Thou Echo, thou art mortall, all men know.
                    Echo.                              No.
Wert thou not born among the trees and leaves?
                    Echo.                              Leaves.
And are there any leaves, that still abide?
                    Echo.                              Bide.
What leaves are they? impart the matter wholly.
                    Echo.                              Holy.
Are holy leaves the Echo then of blisse?
                    Echo.                              Yes.
Then tell me what is that supreme delight?
                    Echo.                              Light.
Light to the minde: what shall the will enjoy?
                    Echo.                              Joy.
But are there cares and businesse with the pleasure?
                    Echo.                              Leisure.
Light, joy, and leisure; but shall they persever?
                    Echo.                              Ever.

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