IF in this house ye lie a-bed Rouse, for this night is to the Dead! For them God bids us knock your door, Lest they be unrememberéd. For them, O easy sleepers, pray! The quick go lightly on their way: Now on a bed of burning coal Perchance your buried fathers flay. Gold comes and goes; and yet behold How many sell their souls for gold. Arise, and on your chill hearth pray That God may keep your dead in fold! Be upright folk; of sin beware; Weigh well your goods at mart and fair, Nor give short measure. The Lord Christ Shall pay you well for all your care. Fire-winged, the holy Seraphin Down to the Earth shall swiftly spin, Saint Michael with his golden scales To weigh your sinful soul therein. Ah, then you'll need another bed! A pad of hay shall prop your head, And you within the winding-sheet In lidded coffin shall lie dead. Our song is a heart-rending thing; All men must weep when we do sing. Pray for your unforgotten dead; God sends the summons that we bring. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CITY VIGNETTE: RAIN AT NIGHT by SARA TEASDALE THE BETTER PART by MATTHEW ARNOLD THOUGHTS ON THE COMMANDMENTS by GEORGE AUGUSTUS BAKER JR. MODERN LOVE: 34 by GEORGE MEREDITH PARADISE LOST: BOOK 1 by JOHN MILTON SNOWBOUND by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 18. TO THE HON. FRANCIS EARL OF HUNTINGDON by MARK AKENSIDE |