His Winding-sheet

By Robert Herrick


COME thou, who are the wine and wit
         Of all I've writ:
The grace, the glory, and the best
         Piece of the rest.
Thou art of what I did intend
         The all and end;
And what was made, was made to meet
         Thee, thee, my sheet.
Come then and be to my chaste side
         Both bed and bride:
We two, as reliques left, will have
         Once rest, one grave:
And hugging close, we will not fear
         Lust entering here:
Where all desires are dead and cold
         As is the mould;
And all affections are forgot,
         Or trouble not.
Here, here, the slaves and prisoners be
         From shackles free:
And weeping widows long oppress'd
         Do here find rest.
The wronged client ends his laws
         Here, and his cause.
Here those long suits of Chancery lie
         Quiet, or die:
And all Star-Chamber bills do cease
         Or hold their peace.
Here needs no Court for our Request
         Where all are best,
All wise, all equal, and all just
         Alike i' th' dust.
Nor need we here to fear the frown
         Of court or crown:
Where fortune bears no sway o'er things,
         There all are kings.
In this securer place we'll keep
         As lull'd asleep;
Or for a little time we'll lie
         As robes laid by;
To be another day re-worn,
         Turn'd, but not torn:
Or like old testaments engross'd,
         Lock'd up, not lost.
And for a while lie here conceal'd,
         To be reveal'd
Next at the great Platonick year,
         And then meet here.

DayPoems Poem No. 274
<a href="http://www.daypoems.net/poems/274.html">His Winding-sheet by Robert Herrick</a>

The DayPoems Poetry Collection, www.daypoems.net
Timothy Bovee, editor

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