The Colour by George Herbert, read for LibriVox.org by Justin Red. I struck the board and cried, No more! I will abroad! What!
shall I ever sigh and pine? My lines and life are free, free as the road loose as the wind as large as store! Shall I be still in suit? Have I no harvest but a thorn to let me blood, and not restore what I have lost with cordial fruit?
Sure, there was wine before my size did dry it, there was corn before my tears did drown it. Is the year only lost to me? Have I no bazed crown it, no flowers, no gardens gay, all blasted, all wasted? Not so my heart!
But there is fruit and thou hast hands! Recover all thy cyblown age on double pleasures! Leave thy cold dispute of what is fit and not! For sake thy cage thy rope of sands, which petty thoughts have made, and made to thee good cable to enforce, and draw, and be thy law!
Well thou didst wink, and would not see! Awake! take heed! I will abroad!
Call in thy death's head, their tie up thy fears! He that forbears to suit and serve his need deserves his load! But as I raved, and groom of fierce and wild at every word, and he thought I heard one calling, child, and I replied, My lord! End of poem!
This recording is in the public domain.