Because everyone loves a good story
What love is this of Thine that cannot be In Thine infinity, O Lord, confined, Unless it in Thy very person see Infinity and finity conjoined? With this beautiful, mind-bending question, Edward Taylor begins his poem “Meditation 1.1.” His wit, wordplay, and sincere devotion…
“Not, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee.” So begins a poem that may not be, at first glance, a very cheerful one. After all, the first half of the poem is addressed to Despair itself, describing it as dead, putrefying flesh—a…
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