Poem by Richard Crashaw

On the Prodigal

Tell me, bright boy, tell me, my golden lad,
Whither away so frolic? why so glad?
What all thy wealth in council? all thy state?
Are husks so dear ? troth 'tis a mighty rate. 

1. On Mr. G. Herbert's Book
2. Satan
3. Charitas Nimia; or, The Dear Bargain
4. Wishes to his (Supposed) Mistress
5. On the Miracle of the Multiplied Loaves

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