The Poetry Corner

To Death

By Robert Herrick

Thou bidst me come away, 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.