the desperate man

That Man is Poor and Desolate whose Lov
None seeks, no man sollicits, none Doth move,
Whose Brightest Splendors in the Dark do lie
And all his Great affections are thrown by.
Rust covers his Resplendent fancy, Dust
Soyls all his Powers, & his Lov doth rust.
His Wit’s unseen, his Wisdom none admires,
His Souls unsought, his favor none desires.
None vallues his esteem, his sacred tears
No ey doth pitty, Fury no man fears.
His Passions are hung o’er with Cobwebs, and
His greatest virtues idle in Him stand.
His Courage no where is imployd his zeal
No Beauty doth to any Ey reveal.
His Excellencies in a Silent Cave
Are hid; his very Body is his grave.
His faculties are Empty, all his powers
Are Solitary, Withered, Blasted Bowers.
His Wide & great capacity is laid
Aside, his precept is by none Obeyd.
His very Worth’s neglected & Despised,
His very Riches are themselves not prizd.
He is the poor, forlorn and needy man,
That see, do, Prize, Enjoy, Admire at Nothing can;
Whose Goodness cant itself comunicat,
Nor Avarice Enjoy anothers State.
Whose Violent & Endless Lov’s displeased,
Whose Great Ambition is by no man Easd.
Who no Dominion hath, Whom no Mans Ey
Doth Prize, Exalt, Rejoyce in, Magnifie.
Who reigns not always in anothers soul,
Whose Highness nothing can at all Controul.
Who cannot pleas far more the Worlds! & be
A Bliss to others like the Deitie.

Thomas Traherne, "The Desolateness of Absence"