HIS PILGRIMAGE
by: Sir Walter Raleigh
(1552-1618)
- IVE me my
scallop-shell of quiet,
- My staff of faith to walk upon,
- My scrip of joy, immortal diet,
- My bottle of salvation,
- My gown of glory, hope's true gage;
- And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.
-
- Blood must be my body's balmer;
- No other balm will there be given;
- Whilst my soul, like quiet palmer,
- Travelleth towards the land of heaven;
- Over the silver mountains,
- Where spring the nectar fountains;
- There will I kiss
- The bowl of bliss;
- And drink mine everlasting fill
- Upon every milken hill.
- My soul will be a-dry before;
- But, after, it will thirst no more.
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