Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916.
To DeathRobert Herrick (15911674)
T
And I’ll no longer stay
Than for to shed some tears
For faults of former years;
And to repent some crimes,
Done in the present times:
And next, to take a bit
Of bread, and wine with it:
To don my robes of love,
Fit for the place above;
To gird my loins about
With charity throughout;
And so to travel hence
With feet of innocence:
These done, I’ll only cry,
‘God, mercy!’ and so die.