Here down my wearyed limbs Ile lay; My Pilgrims staffe; my weed of grey: My Palmers hat; my Scallops shell; My Crosse; my Cord; and all farewell. For having now my journey done, (Just at the setting of the Sun) Here I have found a Chamber fit, (God and good friends be thankt for it) Where if I can a lodger be A little while from Tramplers free; At my up-rising next, I shall, If not requite, yet thank ye all. Meane while, the Holy-Rood hence fright The fouler Fiend, and evill Spright, From scaring you or yours this night. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE GARDEN THE WORLD by WALT WHITMAN THE SKY-GYPSY by WALTER BARDECK URANIA; THE WOMAN IN THE MOON: THE SECOND CANTO, OR FIRST QUARTER by WILLIAM BASSE FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: MURDERER'S HAUNTED COUCH by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM AT CLIFTON by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES ABSENCE by JOHN ARTHUR BLAIKIE BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 1. THE FIRST SONG by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |