Heres an amazing poem by the 16th century poet George Herbert set to the beautifully atmospheric music of my Cornish electro music composer pal William Beatty aka Wilpowa which we recorded for our first CD "Hyperbole" This name is also the name we go under in our duo form.George Herbert (April 3, 1593 -- March 1, 1633) was a Welsh poet, orator and a priest. Being born into an artistic and wealthy family, he received a good education which led on to him holding prominent positions at Cambridge University and Parliament. As a student at Trinity College, Cambridge, England, George Herbert excelled in languages and music. He went to college with the intention of becoming a priest, but his scholarship attracted the attention of King James I. Herbert served in parliament for two years. After the death of King James and at the urging of a friend, Herbert's interest in ordained ministry was renewed. In 1630, in his late thirties he gave up his secular ambitions and took holy orders in the Church of England, spending the rest of his life as a rector of the little parish of St. Andrew Bemerton, near Salisbury. He was noted for unfailing care for his parishioners, bringing the sacraments to them when they were ill, and providing food and clothing for those in need. Throughout his life he wrote religious poems characterized by a precision of language, a metrical versatility, and an ingenious use of imagery or conceits that was favored by the metaphysical school of poets[1]. He is best remembered as a writer of poems and hymns such as "Come, My Way, My Truth, My Life" and "The King of Love My Shepherd Is." He is commemorated on February 27 throughout the Anglican Communion and on March 1 of the Calendar of Saints of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.RegardsJim Clark All rights are reserved on this video sound recording copyright Jim Clark/William Beatty aka Wilpawa/Hyperbole 2001¶ Death. DEath, thou wast once an uncouth hideous thing, Nothing but bones, The sad effect of sadder grones;Thy mouth was open, but thou couldst not sing.For we consider'd thee as at some six Or ten yeares hence, After the losse of life and sense,Flesh being turn't to dust, and bones to sticks.We lookt on this side of thee, shooting short; Where we did finde The shells of fledge souls left behinde,Dry dust, which sheds no tears, but may extort.But since our Saviours death did put some bloud Into thy face; Thou art grown fair and full of grace,Much in request, must sought for as a good.For we do now behold thee gay and glad, As at dooms-day; When souls shall wear their new aray,And all thy bones with beautie shall be clad.Therefore we can go die as sleep, and trust Half that we have Unto an honest faithfull grave;Making our pillows either down, or dust.

Video providers : , and this video is stored with all copyright by