Haile holy, and all-honour'd Tomb, By no ill haunted; here I come, With shoes put off, to tread thy Roome. I'le not prophane, by soile of sin, Thy Doore, as I do enter in: For I have washt both hand and heart, This, that, and ev'ry other part; So that I dare, with farre lesse feare, Then full affection, enter here. Thus, thus I come to kisse Thy Stone With a warm lip, and solemne one: And as I kisse, I'le here and there Dresse Thee with flowrie Diaper. How sweet this place is! as from hence Flow'd all Panchaia's Frankincense; Or rich Arabia did commix, Here, all her rare Aromaticks. Let me live ever here, and stir No one step from this Sepulcher. Ravisht I am! and down I lie, Confus'd, in this brave Extasie. Here let me rest; and let me have This for my Heaven, that was Thy Grave: And, coveting no higher sphere, I'le my Eternitie spend here. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE LEAVES by HAYDEN CARRUTH A MID-DAY DREAMER by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE ARCHITECT (1) by KAREN SWENSON A FORGOTTEN TUNE by PAUL VERLAINE THE MASK by CLARISSA SCOTT DELANY THE CITY OF GOD by SAMUEL JOHNSON (1822-1882) UNDER THE SHADE OF THE TREES [MAY 10, 1863] by MARGARET JUNKIN PRESTON |